


The Room Where it Happened

by zeonchar



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Gratuitous Smut, Ham is a slut, Hamingette, Hurt/Comfort, Jamilton - Freeform, Lams - Freeform, Love Triangles, M/M, Power Play, Short Temper, anger issues, hamfayette, hamilwash, washfayette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 84,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeonchar/pseuds/zeonchar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Figure it out, Alexander. That’s an order from your commander."</p><p>Alexander Hamilton will do whatever it takes to get his plan through congress, even if that means compromising with Thomas Jefferson and James Madison. </p><p>In which Alexander gets way more than he bargained for and General Washington is there to help him pick up the pieces of the soul he bargained away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please take note of the warning for this fic as there is explicit rape (which I do not condone in any way).
> 
> I based this on the Hamilton musical, but I left descriptions vague enough so that it could be considered 18th CE RPF.

"Figure it out, Alexander. That’s an order from your commander."

These words echoed in Alexander Hamilton's mind as he stood stiffly in the upper bedroom of Thomas Jefferson's estate in New York, where Thomas had invited both him and Madison for dinner on the pretense of conducting political negotiations regarding Hamilton's financial plan. Jefferson sipped brandy leisurely from a small but elegant glass as he stood next to the corner table that held the decanter. He looked at Hamilton coolly as he sipped, his pinky elegantly turned up as he had learned from the affluent in France. Hamilton could see that Jefferson's pinky was adorned with some garish gem-inlaid gold ring and his apparel was immaculate from his garish coat and ruffles right down to the shine in the leather folds of his shoes.

 _And he has the nerve to comment on my attire,_ Hamilton thought to himself.

Madison had been reclining in a chair nearby, also drinking. He turned to Hamilton and asked, "Won't you sit with us?"

"Yes, have a drink with us," Jefferson commanded as he sized up Hamilton from the corner he sat in, eyes narrowed with thinly veiled suspicion.

Hamilton stood unmoving with his hands clasped behind his back as if he hadn't heard the invitations from his fellow cabinet members. "I really would like to talk about my financial plan," He stated formally.

"Straight to the point," Madison remarked with a nod of approval at Jefferson who was still was eyeing Hamilton with suspicion.

"What if I don't care to talk about your financial plan yet, hmm?" Jefferson asked.

Hamilton raised an eyebrow, questioningly. 

"There's time enough for that later," Madison interjected. "We should at least get some formalities out of the way first."

"Why did Washington appoint you as Secretary of the Treasury again?" Jefferson asked, irritation seeping into his voice.

Hamilton gave Jefferson a skeptical look. "I could ask the same of your appointment," he replied.

"Gentlemen," Madison said, "this won't get us anywhere. Look, Hamilton, there are things we are going to need from you if you want our help with the votes."

"Leave us," Jefferson abruptly commanded. He kept his eyes on Hamilton while slowly lowering his brandy to the table. Madison looked back and forth between Hamilton and Jefferson a couple of times before finally realizing the command was directed at him. He took one final gulp, emptying his glass before hastily getting up. He brushed off his coat in a rather perturbed manner, and marching out of the room, his heels clicking on the wood floor. The door slammed and two men who could not be more diametrically opposite remained alone in the room with the sound of the door reverberating in their ears.

Jefferson languidly strolled over to Alexander who remained as stiff as a board and seemed incredibly uncomfortable around the taller man. They had their disagreements, sure, but Thomas never thought Alexander would act this formally around him.

"You don't have the votes," Thomas prodded. "What makes you think I would do anything to help you? You have openly argued against me time and time again. What do you have to offer me?"

Hamilton's eyes darted over and met Jefferson's. "Surely we can reach some sort of agreement. There must be something?" His eyes looked questioningly at Thomas. "For instance, I was thinking about layout of our new nation's Capitol and I believe I have some sway where that is concerned."

Hamilton started to talk in that rapid-fire speech that he was known for and his ideas started to spill out of him in succession with a nervous energy, but Jefferson barely seemed to be listening, only staring with what could be called a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.

"I could be... persuaded to swing the votes your way," Jefferson casually mentioned, ever word calculated and precise.

Hamilton looked at Jefferson now with rapt attention, eager to bite at the bait or to take control of the situation, which one, he did not know.

"But I'm going to need something from you." Jefferson stopped his pacing in front of Hamilton and looked directly at him again, standing only a foot away, a technique Hamilton realized was meant to unnerve and to convey dominance.

 _Damn, he's good,_ Alexander thought, a bit amused and eager for a challenge. Jefferson's time as the ambassador to France surely had not been wasted on pleasantries, he had some real negotiating power behind that demeanor.

"I am at your service, Sir," Alexander said with false subservience as he inclined his head forward a little.

"I'll get you your votes," Jefferson said decidedly, "but only if you let me take what I want from you first."

Alexander felt the color drain from his face, his heart skipped a beat, and his throat suddenly became very parched. Had he understood Jefferson correctly? Thomas was aware of Hamilton's face blanching and he gave himself a little congratulatory smile and stepped back, returning to his pacing.

"Of course, it is at your leisure to decline, but might I remind you Sir, that without this financial plan, you are nothing. You will never last another semester in congress. Not even Washington will be able to keep you in power once they call for your removal." Thomas chuckled.

 _Check,_ Thomas thought to himself, smirking widely as he turned his back to Alexander, relishing the look of shock upon his face.

Alexander swallowed hard, his mind racing wildly at the options presented before him. He had been in the eye of the hurricane many times before and he had always risen above the fray to come out on top, this situation was no different, he told himself. He flashed back to being a young boy on the island of St. Croix, poor and desperate. His father had been nonexistent, never a constant figure in his life. His mother did the best she could to provide for them both, but often fell short as their debt mounted and it was left to Alexander oftentimes to provide. He did this the best way he could and sometimes the only way he knew how, by providing his body to the sailors coming ashore for some coin. When he came home ragged at night with a bag of coins, he couldn't look her in the eye and she dared not to ask him how he had got the money, she just cried silently to herself and then whispered to him, "My good little boy. My sweet little boy. Such a good boy," and kissed him on his cheeks and then his forehead while her tears stained his face and tasted salty in his mouth.

Alexander hated himself, but he loved his mother and wouldn't see her destitute because he had been selfish. He would do whatever it took to survive. He would rise up and come out on top. Every moment was an opportunity to grasp at, or let slip through his fingers. Now he thought of his wife Eliza, upstate and visiting with her father and sister, what would she think of him? What would she think of him if he couldn't provide for her or her children? What kind of man would he be?

Hamilton swallowed heavily again and looked up from the floor, eyes locked on Jefferson's, who looked cocky and self-assured.

"Fine," he spat.

 _Mate._ Thomas' victory surged in his breast.

"Do we have an accord?" Jefferson asked, still composed. "I need to hear you say it. I will provide the votes in congress if you provide your body and let me take what I want." Jefferson leered at him and Hamilton felt sick and disgusted in the pit of his stomach.

"We have an accord," Hamilton replied wearily, averting his eyes.

"Then get on your knees," Jefferson commanded, the smile vanishing from his face suddenly and his countenance becoming dark.

Hamilton lowered himself slowly to the wood floor, eyes staring straight ahead and hardening at the thought of what he was to shortly endure.

Thomas paced around him in a circle in that slow and lazy saunter he was famous for, raising the tension between the two men in the room tenfold. Alexander growled in his throat and Thomas circled him like a predator would prey. For once Alexander dreaded the the dance, the spar, the game he had relished so frequently before.

Eventually Thomas stopped in front of him, mere inches away, but Alexander refused to focus on any part of Jefferson, he just let his eyes focus on a detail in the distance and prayed that Thomas couldn't hear the pounding in his chest, the sign of fear, the signal for the hunter to take the prey and eat it alive. Thomas began to unbutton his breeches and soon pulled his hard cock out, giving it a one or twice over stroke, as if to intimidate Alexander further. Hamilton's jaw clenched and his mouth formed a hard line as if to deny entrance of that which was to come, but Jefferson saw the steely resolve in Hamilton's face and his left hand shot out to Hamilton's thick head of hair, quickly jerking it back. Alexander let out a shocked and surprised gasp at the roughness and the pain and this was enough for Jefferson to shove his large prick down Alexander's throat. He gagged and his eyes watered furiously, but Jefferson held his head firmly now on each side, sliding his member in and out of the slick hole. Alexander's eyes burned and his nostrils fumed for air as he twitched and gagged on the monstrosity being shoved down his throat, but Thomas' fingers pressed in hard to the sides of his face and he could feel the fingernails digging into his skin. For a moment, he considered fighting back, he could, he would, he was a fighter, he could take Thomas' stones in his hand and crush them as he bit down hard, but then he deflated as he remembered Washington's words and the fear of failure washed over him stronger than the revulsion he was feeling.

In his mind he begged for it to be over as tears unintentionally streamed down his face and each moment seemed like eternity. He squeezed his eyes shut so as to not have to see the reviling figure in front of him and he pleaded with his nostrils to discharge the smell of the other man who was so abhorrently close. He shuddered when Jefferson let out a small moan and was brought back in time to those filthy revolting sailors who were so eager to get their hands on his young flesh. Jefferson was no different.

Suddenly he was free of the cock down his throat as he coughed in relief and swallowed hard and began to open his eyes blearily, the light straining through the tears in his lashes. He felt a strong hand pull him up from the back of his coat and he wobbled to his feet, but in one strong motion another hand tore at the seat of his breeches and in the same step shoved him forward forcefully toward the bed. His breeches at his ankles now, he stumbled and sprawled over the edge of the bed. Before he could regain his composure and gather himself from the shock of his sudden nakedness, Jefferson was on top of him and had rammed his own length home, the only lubricant being the juices from Alexander's throat.

Alexander cried out in pain as a half-scream left his lungs and he desperately grasped the coverlet of the bed. In utter shock, he gasped for air, the wind knocked completely out of him. Each thrust brought endless amounts of pain and he could feel his legs buckle with weakness, only Jefferson's weight held him up now. He could feel something sticky dripping down his leg and he wondered in a daze if it was blood as he closed his eyes so completely from the outside world that he was scrunching them together. Jefferson was relentless and seemed to enjoy Alexander's pain and suffering so Hamilton stifled his cries, refusing to cry out any more, even though the pain was unbearable and Thomas was insatiable. Thomas wound his hand through Hamilton's thick, luscious hair and pulled hard and he pounded harder at his back hole and grunted.

"Good boy," Jefferson grunted in his ear, still slamming his massive cock home with vigor. Alexander felt like he was being split apart from the inside and the tears ran freely from his face now, but those words truly defeated him. He felt his body go limp. Thomas grabbed the handful of hair harder and yanked Alexander's head back, disappointed at the lack of reaction he was getting so he shoved his head into the mattress and held it there until he spent himself in a few ragged gasps. Thomas removed himself quickly and made sure to fire his warm, salty, juices right in Alexander's face. The thick, milky liquid intermingled with Hamilton's tears and tasted rancid in his mouth. The strength drained from him, Hamilton began to slide down near the rug on the floor until he was barely draped over the ledge, the wood on the end of the bed barely supporting him.

Thomas looked like he was gathering his breath and composing himself as he looked down over his conquest. "You'll have your votes," he said, still breathing heavily. "Just remember what I can do to you next time you want to go toe-to-toe."

With that being said, his final motion was to wipe the excess liquid from his tip across the one unsullied part of Alexander's face. Hamilton didn't react to this at all and still looked dazed, but when Thomas put himself away and then bent over to whisper in Alexander's ear, he recoiled.

"Oh, and you're going to put the Capitol in Virginia."

Thomas righted himself and snorted, "You can see yourself out. Your carriage is waiting outside."

Alexander listened to that slow stride out of the room and didn't move until he was absolutely sure Thomas was gone. Finally he looked to see the open door in front of him while wiping the slick, sticky substance from his face with his hand.

He looked at his hand and it was shaking while he wiped the spent seed on the coverlet of the bed. He combed over his face with both hands suddenly, furiously trying to get the traces of his shame and disgrace off of him. He looked down at his breeches and saw his bloodied legs and fumbled to bring them up to cover himself. He was glad he wore the dark ones today, he thought somewhere in the back of his mind. He could barely pull himself up, with the help of the edge of the bed, his legs were shaking badly and when he tried to walk pain shot through the area where he had been violated. There were no more tears now as they had all been cried in full and he felt completely numb and drained as he hobbled slowly out of the room and down the stairs of the emptied house. He crawled into the waiting carriage where the driver saw his face and knew not to ask where to go, but home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington intervenes and offers some much needed comfort.

The next day George Washington held a cabinet meeting where Alexander Hamilton was conspicuously absent. Washington paced the bustling halls after he called for dismissal looking around for Alexander, but he was nowhere to be found.

This isn't like him, Washington thought worriedly. Alexander would never miss one of his cabinet meetings, especially since he has been trying so hard to get that financial plan of his through.

Washington tapped his cane worriedly against his boot and looked around, only to spy Jefferson and Madison talking animatedly between themselves in a corner. Washington began to walk towards them and they hadn't spotted him yet when he caught a snippet of their conversation, "Oh, we won't being seeing that dirty immigrant for a while, not after what I did to him."

Jefferson and Madison burst into laughter and Washington could feel his face blanch with a growing horror as he froze in his tracks.

"I do believe you quite put him in his place, good Sir," Madison commented.

"You should have seen his face when I told him the terms of our agreement," Jefferson tossed his head back and chuckled. "I've never seen a man look so bewildered. No... strike that," Jefferson said putting a ringed finger up, "I've never seen that bastard Hamilton give up an inch of his pride before. That is, until yesterday. He is thoroughly and utterly beaten. I beat him!" Jefferson said.

They chuckled again and Madison gave a congratulatory clap on Jefferson's shoulder. Washington could feel his face burning and thought, God, help me, calling on the divine. He spun around, heels and cane clicking against the floorboards as he swiftly walked towards the door. Jefferson and Madison looked up from their triumphant discourse to see Washington sweeping from the room. They looked at each other; Jefferson nodded with a knowing look and Madison replying in kind.

"Harlem," commanded Washington abruptly at the first carriage outside and dove in, cane slamming against the backboard of the driver, ordering him to move.

When the carriage arrived at Hamilton's residence, Washington opened the door and stepped down onto the cobblestone street.

"Wait here," he commanded the driver and then made his way through the wrought-iron gate that bordered the perimeter of Hamilton's property. Washington arrived at the front door and rapped at it with his cane. He waited...

No answer.

He rapped again...

Nothing.

Washington sighed as he tried the handle and the door gave way inward. He stepped into the foyer and noted Hamilton's cloak hanging on the rack.

So he's here then, Washington noticed.

He unwrapped himself and put his cloak next to Hamilton's after closing the door. The house was dark now and he squinted as his eyes tried to adjust, peering down the hallway. He took one step slowly and then another as he came around the corner into the main room. He inhaled sharply as his hand come up to steady himself on the entryway.

Only embers burned low in the fireplace and before it stood a metal tub. Washington could see the back of Hamilton's head, lolled to the side over the back edge, his hair matted, stringy, and unkempt. His two arms were slumped lazily on each side, not gripping the edge of the tub with his hands, but held up entirely by the metal itself. His body seemed to have no tension or movement in it whatsoever and for a moment, Washington feared the absolute worse.

Washington began to slowly walk around the edge of the sofa, not daring to take his eyes off of the back of Hamilton's head. Finally he came around to the front and he could see Hamilton's face, eyes glazed over, skin pallid and prickled with goose flesh, lips cracked and tinged slightly with blue. Washington inhaled sharply again and muttered another prayer to the divine. Next he made his way to the tub and dipped a finger in the blackened and murky water. It was ice cold.

"Alexander," he proclaimed, "my God man, what is going on here? What are you doing? Are you trying to catch your death?" Hamilton didn't respond.

Washington spun sharply and began to pile logs on the fireplace. He knelt over and began to blow on the embers, hoping they would catch, not caring a whit if his fine clothes were sullied with soot. He managed to get the fire to catch on a log and then he righted himself with a difficulty that had grown with his years. He rushed frantically through the opening and down the hallway and began to pull open cupboards until he finally found where the linens were kept. He came back into the room and halted with the bundle in his arms right behind the tub.

"Son, please, let's get you out of there," Washington pleaded with Hamilton.

Washington hooked his hands under Hamilton's armpits and pulled him up to a standing position. Strong hands and strong arms lifted Hamilton like a feather as droplets of water dripped off of his slack body.

"Come on son, please stand," Washington's gentle voice spoke in Hamilton's ear. Water spilled onto the rug and then Washington's powerful arms wrapped the linen around Hamilton twice over. Hamilton shivered a bit, feeling the cold for the first time in contrast to the warmth he felt from Washington's skin.

Washington had pulled the sofa as close to the fire as possible and he guided Hamilton over. Washington thought back to Valley Forge and the winter he and Hamilton had braved together. It was a brutal winter and the men were constantly at risk of losing toes, fingers, a nose, or even a whole hand or foot to the cold. Some even lost more than that.

Washington knew very well the signs of cold chill and he didn't like what he saw in Alexander. Washington was also aware that when a man got this cold the only way to keep him from dying was for another man to strip and then for both to get in a sleeping sack together.

There was no shame in it...

Washington had been a soldier and so had Alexander, they've had to forego modesty many times whilst in the field. To Washington, Alexander was still his soldier and this kind of familiarity was looked upon with scorn by the cabinet members who hadn't served. They could never understand the kind of bond soldiers had. 

Washington sat in the corner by the fire and pulled Alexander on top of him, holding him like a bundle. He briskly ran his hands over the exposed chilled flesh to coax circulation back into his body and he breathed hotly onto Alexander's skin, trying to impart some warmth. Washington was relieved when Hamilton began to stir and mumble; extreme measures would not be necessary.

"What is it son? Speak up," Washington encouraged him.

"How..." Hamilton began, "how could I let this happen?" His voice wavered and Washington's heart sank, but he didn't reply. Washington didn't want to make Alexander tell him anything he wasn't ready for. In his heart he dreaded what Jefferson had done to Alexander. Washington didn't know the extent of it, or how bad it had been, he only had his suspicions.

Hamilton continued, "What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing." Washington kept rubbing his cold flesh. "There's nothing at all wrong with you."

"I... no, you don't know me... you don't know what I've done," Hamilton rambled.

"I don't care," Washington replied, matter-of-factly.

"How can you say that? Jefferson used me and then wrung me out to dry," Hamilton said now with more life in his voice.

"That man will get his due comeuppance," Washington grimly replied.

"I've always been dirty. He must have..." Hamilton said frantically and then trailed off. "He must have sensed that in me and known how to take advantage of it."

Washington's mouth hardened into a line. He felt pain and anger welling up in him. How could Jefferson do this to Alexander? In his mind, he replayed fantasies over and over of strangling Jefferson, smashing his face in with his cane, and then kicking him out of office. Washington wasn't a needlessly violent man, but he had his inclinations like the rest, he just kept them under wraps much better. A sick part inside of him knew that he could do absolutely nothing to Jefferson. Thomas was extremely popular and to make a move like that could very well lead to the destruction and downfall of the government. Washington could see it now, the Southerners rising up, calling for his removal, destabilizing everything they had worked to build. Everything he and Alexander had fought for would be ruined.

Hamilton was shaking under him and Washington could hear quiet sobs now, so he held his soldier tighter.

"I... thought I could do this. I really did," He said between sobs. "I thought I could do anything... but I can't! God, I am so naive!" he cried out.

Washington's heart lurched and he suddenly remembered the final words he had spoken to Alexander before leaving him last, "Figure it out, that's an order from your Commander." This was all his fault. If only he had been a little more lenient on Alexander then neither of them would be in this position right now. He could have done something to help him. He had pull; he had sway, but he wanted Alexander to do this for himself. He had faith in him and knew he was capable of pulling off any plan he put his mind to. He had needed Alexander to do this one thing on his own.

"I am such a fool," Washington replied, shaken. "Alexander... Son, I am so sorry." Washington caressed Hamilton's face, now warmed by the glow of the fire. He planted a soft kiss on the back of Hamilton's head in between the thick, stringy hair and he let his lips linger there for a moment, taking in Alexander's scent.

Hamilton felt a chill rush down him starting from the spot where Washington's lips touched his scalp. His tears fell freely.

"I only thank the maker that Laurens is not here to bear witness to my shame," Alexander mumbled quietly between sobs. "Oh John..." He said again trailing off, his body shaking, his eyes shut tightly, his distress obvious.

"Please, don't think of these things now, just rest," Washington asked him, almost pleadingly.

Alexander turned and buried his face in the crook of Washington's arm. The sobs continued for quite some time. Washington's touch gradually changed from a purposeful warming massage to a slow and tender caress. Hamilton's breathing became heavier and Washington could tell he was drifting off to sleep. Washington held him tighter, eager to give his soldier what comfort he could.

Hamilton exhaled contentedly, feeling secure in Washington's paternal embrace.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington lends a helping hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading.
> 
> These pictures are the muse for this chapter: http://imgur.com/a/H6NhD

He checked him over once again to make sure Alexander was comfortably asleep and then Washington gingerly extricated himself from under the bundle. He piled some extra logs in the fire and then made his way outside to send the carriage off. "Go fetch the doctor," Washington commanded the carriage driver who was still waiting outside. 

Washington's shoulders slumped and he suddenly realized he felt defeated and exhausted. His mind flared back to Jefferson once again and a surge of anger welled up for a moment before he tamped it back down with sadness. Washington made his way back into the house, closing the door softly behind him so as to not wake Alexander. He rejoined him in the drawing room and sat down on an opposite couch cushion. His eyes wandered up and down the softly rising and falling mass before him and he thought back on what he actually knew about Alexander, or what little Alexander told him. Hamilton was a secretive person for as long as Washington had known him and he was a master at obfuscating when questions were directed at him regarding his past. Washington was struck by the notion at some point during their acquaintance that Alexander's bravado, arrogance, and pride were a mere shield to mask the pain and tragedy of his past. If that were really the case, then a master manipulator like Jefferson could have easily seen through the facade Alexander put on every day and he would know how to take advantage of Alexander's weaknesses.

 _I pushed him too far, this is my fault._ Washington clenched his fist hard, now angry at himself. _I should have known. I should have been able to tell that he wouldn't have been able to handle Madison and Jefferson all on his own._

Washington suddenly remembered a quote he had heard, "If you can't beat them at their own game, beat them at yours." Jefferson knew this too. He couldn't out-talk Hamilton or give more persuasive speeches to shift the political winds in his favor, so he had to find a way to silence the speaker instead.

Jefferson and Madison had been circling like vultures for a while now, always on the look out for sick or easy prey. Washington tried to tell himself that he never should have offered the position to Jefferson, sight unseen. Except that he knew what Jefferson would bring to the table and he hated to admit that their new government needed a man like Jefferson, someone who was quick-witted and had friends and allies both in the South and across the sea. He also knew that Jefferson was a master of weaving through, procedure, policy, and political intercourse. Madison, of course, fell in like Jefferson's shadow and those two were inseparable and always seemed to be up to some scheme. In hindsight, Washington felt like he really did throw Alexander to the wolves.

What happened to you? Washington mused. Your father? Your mother? Did you have siblings? You must tell me someday, my dearest Alexander.

Alexander stirred a little and Washington was suddenly aware that he would need some clothes when he awoke. Washington got up from his sofa and wandered through the house. On occasion, he was invited to dinner with Hamilton and Eliza in their home, but he never had a reason to go creeping through the private rooms. Now he felt a little unsure and uneasy, like he was intruding on the man's innermost secret places. Washington admitted that he felt a little surprised by the modesty that Alexander's home, especially because he was aware that Hamilton had been an orphan and Washington would think that the man would want to have indulged just a little bit. Washington found himself proud of Hamilton and he approved of his lifestyle choices. To live in such comfort now would have seemed quite decadent after the war they went through together and Washington thought that sometimes people just needed to live closer to their own comfort level. The fact that Alexander was there at all was a miracle that Washington thanked the heavens for every day. He didn't think he could have borne to lose him and he stumbled when he realized how much Hamilton affected him on a deeper level.

Rummaging through drawers, Washington found underthings that clearly were made for a man. He started to feel his face burn as he looked over the clothes, but he couldn't explain why he felt himself reacting in that way. Their relationship had started out incredibly professional and over the years had developed into something more familial... and now this. It began to feel incredibly personal to him in ways he couldn't explain.

Washington quickly bundled some clothes up in his arms and took a deep breath to dispel the burning in his face. He walked quickly back down to the drawing room, not wishing to pry anymore into Alexander's home life while the man was unconscious.

When he arrived, Washington sat next to Hamilton on the sofa and put a hand on his forehead. Hamilton's head felt warm to the touch now, which was a good sign. Alexander's eyes flicked back and forth a little as he stirred awake.

Hamilton opened his eyes sleepily and looked up at Washington, whose hand now rested on his cheek.

"Sir..." He swallowed hard.

Washington beamed at him, his eyes betraying sadness and concern.

"How are you feeling, son?"

Alexander let out a deep sigh and averted his gaze to the ceiling.

"Parched."

"Let's get you into some clothes and then to bed," Washington commanded gently.

"Alright," Hamilton conceded, licking his dry lips.

Washington reached over and gently pulled Alexander into a sitting position, like when he had lifted him from the metal tub. It was easy for Washington as Hamilton felt light in his arms. Alexander seemed incredibly fragile in that moment and Washington was imminently afraid of breaking him somehow. Washington's hand pressed flat against Alexander's bare chest where the linen had fallen open. Though Alexander's chest was now only buffered by a slight patch of hair, it felt warm to the touch.

"Good, you're getting your color back," Washington told him. He could sense a small shiver run through Hamilton and Washington looked up to see the other man's lips slightly part as he exhaled.

Washington unraveled the nightshirt from beside him and lowered the open neck over the top of Hamilton's head. As he helped Hamilton pull his arms through the sleeves, the whole affair evoked images of dressing a child.

"Can you stand?" Washington asked.

"Yes, I think so," Hamilton said reluctantly.

Washington rose and offered both hands and Hamilton weakly gave his own. Their palms rested on one another and Washington traced the slender fingers and trim nails with an attentive gaze. Washington closed each hand tightly over Hamilton's and delicately lifted him up. As Hamilton rose from the sofa his linen fell away, but he pulled his nightshirt down quickly, affording Washington the briefest of glimpses. Washington couldn't help but admire Hamilton's figure. Part of him longed for the vigor of youth once again as he appreciated the aesthetic of a slender form. Guilt overtook Washington and he averted his eyes, scolding himself for looking with longing at his dear friend who had just undergone such an ordeal. He hated Jefferson yet again.

Hamilton seemed to wobble a little and Washington wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady. Hamilton stood a couple of inches shorter than Washington, so he wrapped his own arm around his Commander's waist and the two of them walked deliberately towards the stairs. Hamilton stumbled near the base of the stairs and Washington pulled him closer in response. Alexander stopped and dropped his head into the crook of Washington's shoulders as he regained his composure.

"Come on," Washington coaxed him quietly. He could smell Alexander now, it smelled, amusingly enough, like ink and parchment and maybe a bit of beeswax candle. Washington smiled as he thought of all the times he saw Alexander hunched over a desk or with a portable writing kit on his lap, quill scrawling away maddeningly, ink sometimes smudging the edge of his palm. Washington missed that. He missed seeing Alexander in his element. He missed seeing Alexander passionate.

"You shouldn't be here," Hamilton said flatly, diverting his eyes from Washington.

"What?" Washington asked shocked, feeling his heart drop.

"I don't..." He stopped mid-sentence as if gathering the right words, which, in and of itself, was something new because Hamilton tended to blurt out anything that was on his mind. "I don't need you to be here right now."

"Nonsense," Washington said gruffly. "You didn't show up for the cabinet meeting." Now Washington felt angry and feelt the sting of hurt and rejection. "You've *never* missed a meeting with me in your whole life. Just stop this, alright?" Washington pulled Hamilton in even tighter. "What would have happened if I hadn't arrived?"

"I don't know, Sir," Hamilton said defeated.

Washington felt Hamilton was on the brink of tears again. It was a side of Hamilton that Washington had not seen before this day and it shocked him to witness it.

"Can I please just take you upstairs?" Washington pleaded uncharacteristically. Washington labored to suppress his urge to command Hamilton for both their sakes. 

Hamilton stepped forward again and gripped the banister with his free right hand while Washington edged him up a step at a time.

"That's it," Washington soothed. "Just like that." Washington noticed that Hamilton seemed to be in some visible discomfort, but was making absolutely no sound.

About half way up, Hamilton faltered. Washington saw the other man's eyes flutter and he was able to reach out just in time to catch Hamilton before he fell completely. Washington gripped him tightly to his own chest and he breathed laboriously as he struggled to keep Hamilton upright. He cursed himself for not being quite as young and spry as he used to be. Washington managed to quickly scoop his arm underneath the back of Hamilton's knee and lift him. Hamilton was completely limp in his arms now.

"Please," Washington pleaded to the divine, "please let me have the strength."

Washington was assaulted by a memory of the battlefield. It seemed so long ago, at a different time and in a much different place. He had carried dying men away in his arms, hoping to save them, knowing that he probably wouldn't, hoping to offer them a last little bit of comfort before they left this world.

Washington looked upwards as if expecting a divine intervention. He took in a deep breath and groaned as he continued up the stairs with great ardor. The two finally made it up to the bedroom where Washington lowered Alexander into the bed. Alexander began to come around again and, as the adrenaline left him, Washington started to feel truly worried for his friend.

"Alexander, I will return forthwith." Washington patted Hamilton lightly on the chest. He didn't know if Alexander could hear him or not. Washington noted Alexander's eyes looked hazy and his brow was beaded with sweat. He gave one last straying look, wishing to engrave the features of Hamilton's face into his mind forever, before returning downstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A doctor visits and Washington reminisces.

Upon returning with some water, Washington knelt beside Alexander. "Here, try to drink a little," Washington said encouragingly and tipped a ladle up to Hamilton's mouth. Washington used a cloth to catch any excess water that spilled and then pressed the cloth tenderly to Hamilton's cheeks and forehead.

"I've called for a doctor," Washington said.

"Alright," was all Hamilton could feebly muster.

The silence between them lasted a few moments until Hamilton spoke, "Thank you, Sir."

Washington felt relieved. He didn't need Hamilton's pride getting in the way of his own well-being. Washington reached over and put his hand on top Hamilton's own and pulled it close to his chest.

"Remember that winter in Valley Forge, the one where Lafayette got lost in the snow? You led the search party to find him and when you did, he was delirious and speaking only in French. You stayed with him that whole night and all of the next day, nursing him back to health. I think we would have lost Lafayette if it wasn't for you. What you did for him," he paused, "let me do that for you now." Washington's hand squeezed Hamilton's tighter. "I need you to come back to me," Washington pleaded, but Hamilton's eyes stared off blankly into the distance.

The bell tolled downstairs. "He's here," Washington said and went downstairs to answer the chime. The physician wore a long cloak and and a cocked hat, which he tipped to Washington in greeting at the door. He bore his doctor's bag in hand which looked to be full to the brim with vials, unguents, and other medical accouterments.

"Oh!" The doctor looked startled. "Mr. President!" He continued, "I was not informed I would be meeting you here!"

"I need your guarantee of utmost discretion, good doctor," Washington directed.

"Yes Sir, of course, Sir. I always keep the strictest patient confidentiality."

Washington invited the doctor into the foyer and helped the man remove his hat and cloak.

"Our patient is upstairs," Washington explained as they both climbed the stairs together.

When the doctor came into the room, Hamilton's eyes darted over and focused on him. "Mr. Hamilton, I am here at your service, Sir," the doctor said with a slight incline of his head. As the doctor walked over to the bed and pulled back the linens, Washington caught sight of Hamilton's naked form and felt his blood rush and his pulse quicken. The doctor turned around and addressed Washington, who stood behind him with a worried look on his face. "Mr. President, may I ask you to give us the room? I shall call you if I am in need of assistance."

"Yes... of course." Washington felt a bit dejected and turned to leave. On his way out he heard the doctor speaking soothingly to Hamilton. As he left the room, he turned to give a final worried glance towards his friend. The doctor stared back firmly, awaiting Washington's exit before continuing his work.

Washington closed the door and went back into the drawing room. At first he sat near the linens Hamilton had left behind, but then he got up and paced feverishly. He looked at the ticking clock on the wall; evening was swiftly approaching. Already it was beginning to get dark outside so Washington put another log on the fire. He couldn't suppress the worry in his gut and it gnawed at him. He paced back and forth, his footsteps echoing sharply with each step.

"Damn it," Washington uttered to himself. He wasn't one to normally curse, but he hated the situation they were all in and he couldn't deny how worried he was for Hamilton. He could scarcely admit it even now; just how much Hamilton had come to mean to him. Hamilton was like his son, as he had no real heirs of his own. His wife had children that he had step-fathered, but until Hamilton came along, he never felt that special kind of paternal bond. He would fiercely protect that man with his life, and had actually done so on several occasions. But he also had to trust in Hamilton's abilities, he knew that he was very good at staying alive and taking care of himself. Washington had appreciated those qualities during the war when he couldn't be everywhere and didn't have the patience or ability to micromanage every soldier. Now he longed for Hamilton to say that he needed him and to do more than just trust in his judgment. Washington wanted Hamilton to give himself over to his care.

He thought back again to that night in Valley Forge; the night Lafayette was lost and Hamilton, looking extremely worried, went after Lafayette with a fervor. It was clear that Hamilton would have given his life to save Lafayette. Hamilton dragged Lafayette back to camp with one arm slung over his shoulder, practically carrying Lafayette the way Washington had carried Hamilton up the stairs just a short while earlier. Once Hamilton brought Lafayette into the tent, he made a fire and eventually the icicles on Lafayette's face and hair began to thaw, dripping down his skin as he muttered in French. Washington watched Hamilton and Laurens strip Lafayette of his wet clothes and then place him, naked, in a sleeping sack by the fire. Lafayette was still shivering, his lips a pale blue, when Washington told Hamilton and Laurens that he needed a volunteer to warm Lafayette. Before he could even get the words out of his mouth, Hamilton had volunteered with a look of grim determination on his face. Laurens looked over at Hamilton, a little taken aback, as Hamilton started to strip. The skin on skin contact was essential in bringing someone back from the brink of chill-death, they all knew this, yet Laurens seemed disappointed for some reason... Hamilton had no problem getting completely naked in front of the other two men and Washington turned his head a little, feeling his cheeks flush.

Laurens continued to scowl, "Surely another can do this!" Hamilton laughed and tsk'ed him while climbing naked into the sleeping sack next to Lafayette. "My dear Laurens, you may stay and keep us both company throughout this long night, if you wish. I daresay there's room in here for the three of us." Hamilton laughed and Laurens glowered and stomped out of the tent, leaving Washington standing there, trying to maintain his composure.

"I'll leave you to it then," Washington said, stiffly. He saw that Hamilton had wrapped both arms around Lafayette whose face was nestled into the crook of Hamilton's neck. Hamilton was whispering to Lafayette in French and running his hands up and down over Lafayette's chilled skin. Washington couldn't help but watch the movement happening there, just beneath the folds of the sleeping sack... just out of reach.

Washington caught Hamilton looking up at him... those deep piercing eyes. Half taunting, half inviting - Hamilton's eyes were something else entirely - The tent suddenly felt stifling to him and Washington knew that he had to leave. 

Washington came back early the next morning to check on Lafayette's progress and saw both men in the same spot he had left them, embracing in their nakedness, faces pressed close together. This time Lafayette was awake and somewhat more animated. Washington caught hints of their whispers and laughter, which abruptly ceased as he entered the tent.

"I'm so glad you've come back to us in good health General Lafayette," Washington addressed the man earnestly, yet with a sense of sadness inside of him.

His thoughts continued to wander...

George Washington and his wife Martha led an austere life. He admired the woman and respected her deeply and had married her despite the fact that she had children already. He had wanted to be a part of a family and he was relatively happy, but there was always something unfulfilled deep inside of him. Washington rarely let these types of thoughts bubble to the surface and he tried to suppress them when they did. He had done so much already; First, it was the war and now he was running a country - a role he didn't even want in the first place. He couldn't let personal thoughts get in the way of his ability to do his job and to lead his nation. The first time Hamilton stepped into his command tent, Washington felt something change inside of himself. Hamilton brought something into his life that made a hidden part of his soul feel alive. In Hamilton, he saw his younger self, but more than that, he envied Hamilton's ability to apply himself fully in any direction he wanted, without worry for the consequences. If Hamilton wasn't so skilled, people would have said he was reckless, but instead Hamilton got everything he wanted. Washington wondered if he would too?

His thoughts drifted back to the present...

Washington's heart fell; had he miscalculated Hamilton? In all the years of knowing the man, he couldn't imagine him making such a dire error. This "meeting" with Jefferson worried Washington gravely and he wondered if there was more to the picture that he wasn't seeing. In turn, was it was possible that Hamilton actually used Jefferson to get what he needed?... but what was the cost?

In his pacing and reminiscing, Washington hadn't noticed the time fly by. As the bedroom door opened, Washington glanced up at the clock and noticed that it was some significant time had passed. The good doctor descended each step with a rhythmic pace. He stood face to face with Washington in the drawing room and proclaimed, "All-in-all, there was no serious injury." Washington's relief was palpable. He felt enormously grateful for the man's professionalism and skill and he could hardly contain the smile that crept across his face.

"He requires a week's bed-rest and shall need close supervision tonight." The doctor looked around quizzically and then inquired, "Is his wife at home?"

"She is upstate," Washington replied hesitantly.

"He needs someone to stay with him and surely you have..." the doctor trailed off. He wasn't about to give suggestions to George Washington about how he should be spending his valuable time.

"He shall be looked after." Washington gave the man an authoritative look.

"Very good Sir. I have administered laudanum and he is now resting comfortably under its influence. I left a bottle for him, to be used at his caretaker's discretion."

Washington pulled his money clip from inside his breast pocket and began to count out notes. "Please, be discreet," he reiterated as he placed the money in the doctor's hand.

"I shall return in a fortnight," the doctor promised. He donned his cloak and tipped his hat in a final farewell to Washington.

Washington went upstairs to Alexander's room, which was now completely dark. He listened to Alexander's steady breathing while he leaned against the door frame and he thanked the divine that they both remained alive and well.

Hamilton quietly spoke up from the darkness, "I was wrong, Sir."

Washington stepped into the room cautiously.

"Stay with me, please. I need you," Alexander implored before he fell back into a quiet slumber.

Washington looked out of the window at the blackened sky, to the west, where the sun had just set. He searched the room but saw no chair he could rest comfortably in. He began to undo the buttons on his vest, then he slid off his boots, first one, then the other. His breeches were last. Once he was down to his underclothes, he pulled back the linen on the bed and slid in next to Alexander. Hamilton's face was turned away so Washington could freely study the contours of the figure next to him in the dark, marking each rise and fall of Hamilton's chest. Washington reached out and gently touched the fine hair of the man next to him, caressing it between his fingers. Washington's hand trailed down from Hamilton's hair to his bare arm and he traced a finger along his slender bicep. Alexander's steady breathing was soothing to Washington's ear and he felt his eyelids grow heavy as he drifted off into a contented sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Washington awoke the next morning to find Alexander wrapped in his arms with his face resting peacefully against his chest. Washington felt warm and comfortable; he didn't want to move. He looked down at the sleeping form and again thought about that night back in Valley Forge. He wished he was the one who had frozen and thus, he would have been in Lafayette's place in the sleeping sack. Would Alexander have made the same decision? His hand ran lightly over Alexander's back and he heard the sleeping man let out a gentle sigh. Alexander's skin felt so nice to the touch... how Washington had longed for such a comforting embrace in all their years of acquaintance. There was always that distance between them, commander and subordinate, even though Alexander eventually became a close personal friend--Washington wanted it to be so much more. He used to watch Hamilton, Laurens, and Lafayette together and wished he could be a peer to them. He wanted to be a part their group and he wanted the familiarity and comfort that went along with their camaraderie. Those three, even if they trusted Washington implicitly, had always been a tad more professional with him. He wished that one day one of them would let their guard down and truly treat Washington as an equal. Though Alexander always spoke his mind, he still acted with a touch of deference towards him. He feared Alexander could never see him as something other than a commander.

It occurred to Washington that maybe Alexander unknowingly rolled in his sleep and might be in for a bit of a surprise when he awoke. Washington was unsure if Alexander would appreciate being in such an intimate position with someone other than his wife. He hadn't invited Washington to his bed, but he had pleaded him to stay... surely he must know how sparse this room is. Washington carefully lifted Alexander's arm from his chest and started to scoot out from under him. Alexander's arm returned to its former positioned and he pulled himself tight against Washington. Washington's eyes widened as they met Alexander's--he was awake.

"Hold me, please," Alexander whispered. Washington swallowed hard and brought his arms around Alexander's shoulder, pulling him in close.

"During the war," Alexander continued, "Laurens would hold me like this at night. Lafayette too sometimes, especially when the nights turned cold. We wouldn't have made it through without each other, you know." Alexander said this so matter-of-factly that Washington couldn't help but question what kind of relationship these men may have had.

"I often wondered," Alexander murmured, "we had each other, but who did you have? You were always alone. The nights were so cold, Sir."

"I had to stand alone," Washington exclaimed. "The leader of an army, a nation, must often be a lonely position. I didn't have time to think of myself, only of those in my charge, such as yourself, young Alexander."

Washington felt vibrant--the warmth between them--Alexander's head rising and falling with each breath. This is what he had longed for, this connection, this understanding, this need to belong to someone special. He wanted to be seen for who he was, not the general, not the Commander in Chief of the nation, not the President... He wasn't just this perfect ideal, he was, he knew, emphatically flawed. Alexander had always called him out when he felt the need to; he was never one to bow and scrape.

Washington's felt Alexander shiver as he ran his hand gracefully down the bare skin of Alexander's back. He studied Alexander's beautiful hair intently and chuckled to himself, he often wished to be so blessed in that department.

"I'm sorry for putting you in this situation, Sir."

"I came because I cared, there's no situation I wouldn't run headlong into if it meant coming to your aid."

"They will think less of me. I may not be able to be as effective in congress, Sir."

"I will handle Jefferson and his cronies." Washington felt Alexander stiffen at those words. "There will be a vote in a weeks time for your bill. I will ensure it is passed and that 'gentlemen' keep their word."

"Some of us play at being gentlemen," Alexander said with bitterness tinging his voice.

"I will also ensure that your reputation remains unsullied," Washington said encouragingly.

"One day, Sir, you won't be able to do these things for me. You'll be gone, just like everyone else in my life."

"Alexander, why so dramatic?" Washington teased.

"I mean it, my father abandoned me at ten, my mother died of fever at twelve, my cousin hung himself, and my dear Laurens, my... first love..." Alexander choked back words and Washington looked at him with concern. _So it was true then, those two had been lovers._ "Now Lafayette is across the ocean in France and I may never see him again."

"I'm so sorry Alexander." Washington squeezed him tighter. "Listen to me, I'm with you--if not as your commander, then as a friend." Washington pulled Alexander's face up towards him. He could see the tears lining Alexander's deep, expressive eyes.

"I've had to fight for everything in my life," Hamilton replied. "It's nice to know someone is on my side for a change." He sighed with relief.

"Well, doubtless, the Schuyler sisters are with you and you have Philip to think of now too," Washington remarked.

"I'm tired of fighting every second of every day," Hamilton said slumping.

"Sometimes I think it's the only thing keeping you going," Washington chuckled. "You are not one for doing things in half measures. Take some time for yourself this week, Son; there's little else you can do before the vote next week. I'll handle the rest--you'll get your victory."

Hamilton slid out from under the linens and set his feet on the floor. He arose in seemingly much better shape than the day prior. He was completely exposed as he walked to the corner of the room where the chamber-pot had been placed. Washington stared at his nakedness from behind, feeling a quickening in his chest while admiring Alexander's body. Washington wanted to reach out and touch Alexander, to draw him up in his arms, to run his hands all over every inch of Alexander's body. But Washington recalled Hamilton's recent trauma and so propriety held his hands at bay. He could only allow himself to stare longingly at Hamilton from a distance.

Alexander put a hand against the wall and leaned a little, releasing a stream after a couple of seconds that went on for quite a while. When he finished he turned around with a complete lack of modesty and stood there undaunted in his nakedness. He was no Adonis, that was for sure, but he had a certain lithe beauty to him, Washington thought. His was of average weight and he had some small muscle definition though his shoulders slumped a little... but his skin was flawless. His lips were plump and pink and his hands delicate and soft.

Washington realized he had been staring rather hard.

"Like what you see?" Hamilton said in a way that was not quite joking.

Washington's face burned and he looked away. He quickly extricated himself from the linen sheets. "I'll leave you to dress, Alexander," Washington said awkwardly and he grabbed the rest of his clothes from the bed board and wheeled out of the room, closing the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion with Jefferson.

Alexander Hamilton walked the halls of the temporary congress in New York. He made sure to dress for the occasion in rich, deeply colored, silky clothes with puffed sleeves and a white cravat. He put on an air of slight arrogance, as was his usual custom, but he couldn't stop the butterflies in his stomach, or the anxiety he felt at the thought of running into Jefferson again. This was the day, the first day that would establish his career with this new nation. His whole life he felt like he had been treading water and if he stopped, for even a moment, he would drown--this had always been the driving source of his ambition. He couldn't be satisfied with what he had, when one task was finished, he looked for the next.

Sometimes he wondered if he just used people as tools to achieve what he wanted. He had learned the impermanence of love and friendship long ago. First his family and then his second family, Laurens and Lafayette... He knew couldn't risk opening himself up fully again. He wondered if other people realized this about him and kept their distance. It would certainly explain Washington's cool professionalism around him, even if there did seem to be something more underneath it all.

Hamilton hung his cloak in the large open coat closet and then turned to find Jefferson standing in the doorway, blocking his exit. Jefferson wore a smug look on his face as he cocked his head. Alexander felt his heart thump in his chest and he clenched his hand into a fist, angrily.

"You look surprised to see me," Jefferson stated. "Frankly, I'm more than a little surprised to be seeing you here." Jefferson's contemptuous grin widened. "Most dogs tend to stay down when kicked," he continued taunting. "It seems the creole breed are used to the abuse and welcome it."

Hamilton knew Jefferson was trying to get a rise out of him and he fought desperately to keep calm--it was one of those things he was never good at. Alexander's eyes narrowed in anger.

"Oh, so defiant," Jefferson feigned mock hurt. "I sure did enjoy all of your complaining while I defiled your face. How could I forget those pouty lips of yours covered in my juices?" Jefferson reached a hand out to graze a finger across Hamilton's sumptuous mouth. Hamilton froze at the touch; he remembered how dangerous Jefferson was. He remembered how Jefferson had overpowered him and covered him in his cloying stench. He shuddered and stepped back, smacking the offending hand away.

"I do so enjoy a challenge," Jefferson laughed. "It's always better when there's a little resistance, is it not?" Jefferson asked in a devious manner, arching an eyebrow at Alexander. Jefferson stood, feet planted in a wide stance in the open doorway of the closet, his hips jutting towards Hamilton in a lascivious manner. The hanging coats and cloaks started to feel like a prison to Alexander.

Jefferson shivered in a mocking way. "Ooh, you know what keeps me up at night?" while Hamilton looked back at him, disgusted. "The image of your face, crying, as I have my way with you." Jefferson reached down and stroked the bulge in his pants and licked his lips. "What other bill would you like passed, Alexander? I'm willing to trade this big boy to you again. I know how deeply you crave it inside of you," Jefferson leered.

Hamilton pulled his foot back and swiftly kicked Jefferson straight in the stones. A look of surprise briefly registered on Jefferson's face before he doubled over, gasping. Alexander walked over, leaned over, and spoke, his voice dripping contempt in Jefferson's ear.

"Don't think for an instant you took advantage of me," Hamilton said heatedly. "I maneuvered you; I put you exactly where I wanted. You wouldn't even deal with me before our date. I manipulated you and made you think that I was helpless while you ravished me. But please, you call that a ravishing?" Hamilton chuckled. "You were pathetic, your performance was pathetic." Jefferson was still doubled over. "Oh, I played the part of the damsel in distress, but in truth, you bored me. I got everything I wanted from you. My bill is passing here today because you were a fool, and weak. You can be manipulated so easily by pleasures of the flesh. I would suggest in the future, to never underestimate a creole bastard again."

Jefferson caught his breath again and looked up with stony anger on his face. He rose to his full height, towering over Hamilton. Jefferson shoved Hamilton with both hands into the rack of coats and pinned him against the wall. Hamilton grimaced and Jefferson's face showed nothing but fury.

"Hamilton! Jefferson!" A voice called with authority. Jefferson spun around to see Washington there and quickly snatched his hands from Hamilton's shoulders. Washington shoved Jefferson aside and stepped between the two, glowering. Jefferson looked taken aback but quickly recomposed himself. Hamilton was still breathing heavily, back against the wall, a wall of coats surrounding him on both sides. Washington stood close to him, so close that they were almost touching, the entirety of his body shielding Hamilton's.

"Oh ho ho." Jefferson laughed menacingly, a cruel grin spreading across his face. "I see how it is now." He brushed off some invisible impurities on his coat. "I had no idea you two were so close. Well... that's quite interesting." With a smirk, Jefferson started to saunter off. He looked over his shoulder before he walked away, "Daddy won't be here to protect you forever."

"Begone!" Washington hissed as Hamilton glared at the back of Jefferson's head.

When Jefferson was out of sight, Hamilton closed his eyes and his head dropped back against the wall. Washington turned around with a concerned look on his face, "Is everything alright, son?"

"You really shouldn't get yourself involved in these types of situations, Sir. You don't need your name sullied with rumors."

"You think I haven't weathered rumors or worse my entire professional career?" Washington asked with annoyance. "Let these fools throw whatever they want my way, I can handle it."

Hamilton looked up and stated, "No, I don't feel alright with involving you in this, regardless of whether you can handle rumors or not."

"Let me decide what I am to get involved with," Washington replied.

"No! Just stay out of my business. Jefferson was already dealt with by the time you intervened, you've likely made things worse."

Washington sighed and averted his eyes from Hamilton. He placed a hand against his own forehead, a look of frustration crossing his face.

"Son, I would do anything for you and I'm not about to watch you throw yourself to the wolves."

"I've been handling wolves my entire life!" Hamilton exclaimed. "I wouldn't expect you to treat me any differently just because we fought together. This special treatment makes me look bad," Hamilton paused. "It makes us both look bad."

"Understand, son, that you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. That said, I just want you to know you don't owe me anything. You're here because you deserve it, special treatment be damned!"

Hamilton's face crinkled with annoyance and anger. "I'm not your son!" he spat. "It's not my problem that you don't have an heir--I cannot be that for you. My father was a dirt bag who orphaned me and my brother. He gambled and drank his life away and he held no love in his heart for either me or my mother." Hamilton looked sad now. "That's not you." Some of the anger left him. "If that's a father, that's not you."

Washington looked weary and wouldn't meet Hamilton's gaze. Hamilton paused, wondering if he should say something more, but decided against it. He extracted himself from the coats and walked out toward the congressional floor, leaving Washington in the coat closet.

Hamilton took his seat in his usual place. Across the way he spied James Madison, who looked back at him quizzically. Next to Madison was seated Jefferson, who had a hard dejected look on his face and was clearly avoiding looking in Hamilton's direction. Jefferson's arms were folded across his chest and he glared sullenly at the floor as Washington came out. Hamilton felt a pang of guilt and regret... had he been too harsh? Washington's face betrayed no sign of emotion and if he had been hurt, Alexander could not tell.

"First on the agenda," Washington announced in that clear, rich voice of his, "We will vote on the debt funding act authored by Alexander Hamilton."

When it came time to vote, Hamilton looked over at Jefferson who had his hand raised in the air with a perceptible scowl on his face.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lafayette returns and a party is thrown.

Marquis de Lafayette's ship sailed into New York harbor a fortnight later and Washington was to hold an informal party at his New York estate for his old friend and subordinate. Alexander Hamilton stood in front of the long dressing mirror at his home in Harlem, the one he shared with Eliza and the children while they weren't away upstate. He held a couple of waistcoats in front of him, deciding which would be the most appropriate to greet his old friend. He had certainly risen in station since the two had last been together and he desperately wanted to reflect that. He was aware of Lafayette's fondness for him, but he wanted more than that, he craved respect, he craved station. Hamilton held up a purple waistcoat in front of the mirror so it draped over his front and then scrunched up his face in the mirror and said to himself in disgust, "Ugh, too Jeffersonian." He pulled another waistcoat from the bed where it had previously been draped and held it up to himself in the mirror. This one was black and velvety to the touch and he thought with approval that the darker colors really seemed to bring out his eyes. 

Hamilton stumbled over his own thoughts, did he really care about impressing is looks upon Lafayette that much? He obviously did, otherwise he would forego all the primping and preening in front of the mirror, yet here he was. Hamilton thought back to the last time they had seen each other. It has been five years past when Hamilton was still a lawyer, he saw him off that day from the docks. They had drank the whole night prior and cried over losing Laurens in between reminiscing about the war years. Neither had gotten a wink of sleep and Lafayette had to be at the docks by sunrise. Lafayette looked haggard and tired, but he had a smile on his face as the sun began to rise behind him. He pulled Hamilton into a close embrace and kissed him on each cheek, as was the French way and said, "Until we meet again, my friend, you have the most tender love and affection of my heart." Hamilton watched him leave with a heavy demeanor, wishing he could stay, knowing he was needed in France to complete his work of leading his country into a new era. 

The sun waned in the distance as Hamilton peered through the windows of his house and he knew he should be along his way soon as he carefully chose a cream colored silky ruffled shirt and pulled it over his head. Next he dressed himself carefully in black, running his hands over the velvety textures of his waistcoat and made sure only to wear only his shiniest polished shoes. He put a ring of garnet on his finger, which he thought added a nice touch and began to comb out his sleek hair in the mirror. The house was very quiet and suddenly Hamilton felt quite alone as his small movements reverberated throughout the dwelling. Normally his mind raced at top speeds, but it did not always go in a direction that he wanted it to. Hamilton dropped his brush, he would be seeing Washington tonight. He had avoided the man as much as possible in the last two weeks, keeping up the pretense of being busy, which was true in its own regard. He thought back on Jefferson's words and couldn't bear the thought of tarnishing Washington's good name. Hamilton had endured all manner of denigration in his lifetime, he had been born into shame, a shameful family in shameful circumstances. What was one more rumor, lie, or scandal thrown his way compared to what it could do to Washington's reputation? No, he would not allow it. 

Alexander threw the brush hard against the wall and it clattered to the floor. Usually his outlet for the anger and energy he felt inside of him was to write like mad, or to impart knowledge on the masses. His speech tended to be flowery and also very fiery. He channeled all of his energy into outward pursuits, but at times like this when there was nowhere to put it, he tensed like a cork ready to pop from a champagne bottle, flexing his fingers and toes, feeling antsy. He paced in front of the mirror in the room. Being alone meant his mind would go into overdrive, sometimes the thoughts droned on so loudly he felt like he was going insane. He either could grab a quill and parchment or find another way to let it out. He hated the quiet, the quiet came after the sound of his mother's final breath and his own feverish delusions as they lay in their sickbeds. Silence meant death. 

Alexander straightened his waistcoat in the mirror and put on the overcoat, taking one final look before he walked down the stairs and to the waiting carriage. The sun was setting now behind the buildings and it would be dark by the time he reached Washington's estate. Hooves clopped over cobblestones as the carriage jostled and he pushed down the growing feeling of anxiety in his stomach. He looked out the window and saw men with long poles lighting the glass lanterns on each tall light post. Their soft glow was one of the most beautiful aspects of the night time.

The carriage halted to a stop in front of Washington's estate some time later and he rapped at the door knocker. A servant answered and he was ushered in, taking off his coat and hat. Hamilton could hear soft violin music coming from the parlor and the servant guided him through the dark hallways lit by small candles, to the immense parlor. 

"I present, Mr. Hamilton," the servant introduced him at the precipice of the doorway and Hamilton gave a slight incline of his head. He looked around at the parlor which was quite grand in scale. He suddenly wondered what Washington's estate in Mt. Vernon looked like compared to what he was witnessing right now. Hamilton placed a hand on each side of the breast of the waistcoat and straightened it, something of a nervous habit of his. He let his thumbs stay hooked there and walked toward the table with the booze and started pouring himself a bourbon. 

Off in the corner of the room, Washington stood standing and chatting with other members of government. He heard Hamilton's introduction and looked over at the black-clad figure striding into his parlor with scrutiny.

"Monsieur Hamilton?" An energetic voice called from behind Hamilton. He spun and saw Lafayette there, both of their faces lit up. Hamilton's face broke out in a huge grin and he laughed setting his bourbon aside to open both arms. Lafayette was the taller of the two and he swept Alexander into his arms, barely able to contain his excitement. Lafayette then deftly planted a kiss on each cheek, twice over, and finally a big smooch on the mouth. Hamilton was laughing uproariously at Lafayette's barrage of physical affection, marveling at the difference between French and American customs and culture. 

"Oh, Hammy, look at you! It has been to long, mon Ami," Lafayette addressed Hamilton with his pet name. 

"Lafayette, I've missed you dearly," Hamilton said suddenly, seriously.

"This is a time for celebration! Quick, take the bottle, we must sit and catch up."

Hamilton gave Lafayette a look like, _are we really doing this?_ and grabbed the entire bottle of bourbon. Lafayette guided Hamilton into an alcove where they sat on a plush cushion. Across the parlor, the light violin and piano music was still being played by the live performers and somewhere across the way, stood Washington who glanced furtively across at the two figures.

"Our first toast! What shall it be to?" Lafayette said in his exuberant French accent. "Oh! What did we used to toast to? The revolution! To revolution in France."

"To France, to revolution" Hamilton laughed, clinking his glass against Lafayette's and downing it. He quickly began to feel that warm fire in his belly spread to his face and he wondered if Lafayette could see how red he was. Cursed Scottish complexion.

'My, my, you've done well for yourself," Lafayette grinned as he grabbed the bottle and poured them another drink.

"I could say the same for you!" Hamilton replied. "You're a hero both in America and in France."

Lafayette grinned and threw his drink back.

"Look at your face, Hammy," Lafayette said, deflecting. "You never could hold your alcohol." As Hamilton threw his drink back, this time choking on it. The other man laughed uproariously and pounded him on the back. This made Hamilton laugh- and choke -more. "You're as red as a cherry." This made Hamilton blush even deeper as he conjured up images of coitus in Lafayette's terminology. 

"You're unstoppable tonight," Hamilton finally got out. 

Lafayette draped one arm casually over Hamilton's shoulder, "Oui, together we've always been quite the team." Hamilton paused realizing Lafayette had more of a serious look on his face now and he reached over for the bottle, which Lafayette proffered easily. 

"Is it true then? There is unrest in France?" Hamilton asked.

"There are talks, oui. We need our revolution just as you needed yours." 

"Our revolution was your revolution too. You could live here, you know. Help us build this nation, the world, into something great."

"You're already doing that, Hammy."

Hamilton didn't answer but threw back another glass and Lafayette followed.

"Why has Washington not invited Jefferson?" Lafayette asked. 

"Let's just say there's a fundamental difference in opinion," Hamilton said dryly.

"Good," Lafayette laughed again and Hamilton looked at him, surprised. "He made a fool of himself in France and I hold no love for the buffoonish man." Hamilton grinned, relieved. "He spent most of the time at the whorehouse and I even heard he diddled little boys from time to time." Hamilton swore under his breath and then said, "It never ends."

"Oh?" Lafayette inquired.

"Never mind." Hamilton grabbed the bottle and poured another shot, downing it and then coughing at the acrid liquid. 

"Easy Hammy, we may not be able to walk out of here at this rate."

"Fine, I'd prefer they drag me out anyway," Hamilton said laughing and Lafayette started giggling, visibly drunk now.

"Have I ever told you what nice lips you have?" Lafayette said drunkenly, while staring at Hamilton's mouth.

"Stop it," Hamilton laughed and pushed Lafayette playfully, almost knocking him off of the plush bench.

"I never noticed... they are so plump, like ladies lips..." Lafayette drawled. 

"What would you know about women anyway?" Hamilton asked, chiding. 

"Donnez-moi... the bottle, if you will..."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Hammy, you tease."

Washington glanced over from across the room and saw the two men laughing playfully in the corner. He felt a pang of something indescribable in his chest as he sipped on his brandy slowly. Washington tried to make his way around the parlor to attend each guest, but he couldn't keep from glancing over at the alcove. The party's subject was thoroughly indisposed and it seemed to him like neither Lafayette or Hamilton even so much as looked at the rest of the company. He saw them easily polish off a bottle of bourbon and they continued laughing. Then there was the touching. Washington knew the French had different personal boundaries, but this seemed like, well, quite a lot of touching. Washington huffed. He didn't want to be distracted by those two all night, but every time he heard a telltale high-pitched laugh, he couldn't help but to look over.

At some point in the night Hamilton and Lafayette left the room. They both seemed pretty drunk and Washington felt a pang of curiosity and just a bit of concern for Alexander. Washington excused himself after a minute or two and left the room himself. Most of the hallways were dark, only lit by a low candle light. He did this on purpose to give the manor a bit of ambiance. Washington walked slowly so as to not make the floorboards creek, he felt ashamed at himself for sneaking around in his own house and most of all, for spying on his friend, whom he trusted with his life. He couldn't shake the hurt he felt at their last meeting. It was clear Alexander was struggling and that meant lashing out, he knew the man could be a bit moody as well, but damn if it didn't sting to be treated in such a manner. Washington would never show the pain on his face or react. He was always the calm, cool, and collected one. He thought time and space would rectify whatever Alexander was going through, but he was starting to tire of tiptoeing around Alexander, both literally and figuratively. 

Washington could hear whispers now around one corner deep in the house. He slowly peeked an eye through one of the tall shrubberies they kept in that hallway and he saw Hamilton pressed up against the wall, head back, eyes closed, face enraptured. Lafayette had his face in Hamilton's neck and Washington saw Lafayette kiss the delicate flesh below Hamilton's cravat numerous times, places he often wished to taste himself. Lafayette had loosened the cloth just enough for his lips to gain entrance. Hamilton's arm snaked its way up Lafayette's shoulder and wrapped around behind his back. Alexander looked up and opened his eyes when Lafayette began to run a hand through Hamilton's silky hair. Then the two lips met and kissed passionately as Lafayette pushed himself into Hamilton once again. Washington's heart dropped out of its chest and he looked away, closing his eyes. He shouldn't be looking, he told himself. He shouldn't be spying on his own friends. This was wrong, wasn't it? Washington could hear soft moans coming from the couple and his heart raced, he looked back, Lafayette and Hamilton had a hand intertwined and Lafayette whispered just audibly, "My Hammy." Their lips continued the amorous exchange, softly and yet hungrily, yearning for each other. Washington saw Lafayette run his hands over Hamilton now as they broke their kiss. Hamilton rested his head against the wall again, face looking beguiled as Lafayette continued down Hamilton's body. Lafayette closed a hand over the hardness in Hamilton's pants, which elicited a look of pleasure and excitement from him. 

Washington acted. He wasn't thinking, he didn't know why, but he suddenly came around the corner and took Lafayette by the shoulder and separated the two. Hamilton looked utterly surprised and Lafayette looked confused. Hamilton was shocked into silence and Lafayette just sputtered. 

"Mr. Hamilton is too inebriated right now and needs to go home," Washington addressed Lafayette who looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I will show him to his carriage and see that he gets home safely." Washington put a strong hand on Hamilton's shoulder and started to guide him away while Hamilton continued to look shocked and annoyed. Lafayette crossed his arms and Hamilton looked back at him with a confused look. Lafayette returned Hamilton's look with a knowing grin.

Washington rushed Hamilton down the hallway like a little kid who got into trouble. Hamilton almost stumbled once, but Washington was there to keep him upright. When they got to the door, Washington shoved Hamilton's coat and hat into his arms and then pushed him outside. He then followed and guided him down the steps to the waiting carriage. 

"Harlem, Mr. Hamilton's abode," Washington barked orders at the carriage driver.

Hamilton opened the door of the carriage and got in, to his surprise Washington also got in behind him, closing the door after himself. Hamilton sat in the corner of the carriage with Washington at the end of the same bench. Hamilton took a deep breath in and released it, clearing his mind. There was absolute silence in the carriage and neither men looked at each other. Hamilton had an annoyed expression on his face and finally spoke up after some minutes of silence. 

"Why did you stop Lafayette?"

"You're drunk, Son, I'm not about to let you be part of a situation that you might regret the next day. Especially not after what happened."

Hamilton looked irritated and said, "Really? Is that the real reason?" Washington didn't answer him and just looked straight ahead at the other end of the carriage car.

Hamilton raised his voice, "I can assure you that any company of Mr. Lafayette's is welcome. At all times," he emphasized the last bit.

"Pull yourself together," Washington hissed, looking at Hamilton for the first time.

Hamilton looked properly chagrined into silence now. He didn't like being on the scolding end of Washington's tongue. They rode in silence together for sometime more, Hamilton with his face turned out the window, the air between them thick and perceptible with anxiety and unspoken words. 

Without warning, Hamilton slid down the bench right next to Washington, he leaned over and placed a hand on Washington's thigh and then stretched his face to meet Washington's in a kiss. Washington froze, his eyes closed reflexively, his lips answered back and his heart pounded in his chest. Alexander's hand was dangerously close. 

Suddenly, he broke away. "No," he said. He could still taste Alexander's wet mouth on his, lips slick from where they had just met. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, tasting where Alexander had just been, savoring. 

Alexander looked even more annoyed now, like a petulant child. 

"I'm not going to do that to you, take advantage of you, not after..." Washington trailed off and he scrunched his legs together to hide where the hardness had sprouted.

The carriage came to a stop and Hamilton rolled his eyes, stepped out of the carriage, and slammed the door.

Washington let out a breath he had been holding and watched the back of Alexander as he walked into his house.

"Where to next, Sir?" The carriage driver called from up top.

Washington's eyes were fixed on the closed door of Alexander's house. He didn't reply.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream and reality.

1772 - The Island of St. Croix - Christiansted

Seventeen year old Alexander Hamilton finished scrawling the final note in the ledger of his benefactor and merchant, Thomas Stevens. He looked up from the tome as a cool breeze blew through the window, ruffling the pages in front of him. He dropped his quill onto the table, closed the ink pot, and stepped out of the door, not before grabbing and donning his coat. In the distance he could see the expanse of the blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. A large merchant ship was pulling into the dock, behind it was a ship that he recognized as a slaver ship. He scrunched his nose and decided to head toward the docks to see what the merchant ship brought. He was sure that Mr. Stevens had some goods arriving from the colonies and he wanted to be there to oversee the shipment and receipt of said goods. 

Alexander strolled past shanty houses on his way and was met with children playing in the dirt streets. One or two dogs ran by, most likely strays begging for food. He looked at them and thought ironically that he had been in a similar situation prior, living only on the good graces of others and feeling desperate to make his own way in his small world, a world where his name brought him shame and was barely above that of a dog. Some had it worse than he, he thought forlornly as he spied the slaving ship in the distance. 

Alexander could smell the scent of fresh bread baking and he suddenly felt hungry. He stopped in front of a small red building where a dark skinned man with a french accent pulled hot buns from his brick oven.

"Ah, monsieur Hamilton, for your aid the other day." The man tossed a small hot bun and Hamilton caught it, juggling it in the air for a second and laughing at the baker. 

"My pleasure," Alexander said taking a bite and continuing on, munching on the hot, fluffy round.

By the time Hamilton made it to the docks, the slaver ship had pulled in and the merchant ship was in the process of unloading, He walked through the stalls near the seaside and caught the scent of the ocean air, filling his lungs with it. He enjoyed it as soon it would be filled with the scent of unwashed men, decay, and misery. Each stall was packed with various good such as fish, fruits, colored linens, and other goods that people were desperately trying to sell to make their living. The sailors from the ships browsed and walked together down the streets, just having been relieved from their long voyage by ship and eager to interact with normal people once again. They longed to taste the fresh fruit and to drink ale and carouse with women, all of which they did in abundance.

Alexander stopped at a stand with wooden driftwood carvings. He knew the older woman, Maria, and she beamed at him as he picked up one of the wooden baubles.

"Have anything new today?" Alexander asked. 

"No, I haven't had time to carve," she said sadly. "Not with the baby that is."

A rowdy group of sailor burst into laughter behind the two and Alexander turned around, quizzically. One of the sailors looked up, catching Alexander's eye and then sauntered over to the stall. 

"Ooh, pretty trinkets," the man said, laughing. He had a round belly, but had strong arms and legs from working the ship all day. His shirt was open and a patch of black hair with a tinge of grey stuck out on his chest. His skin looked weathered and beaten and a beard mottled his tanned face.

"Your face is prettier," the man said to Alexander, holding up one of the carvings as if to compare it to Alexander's face. Alexander looked disgusted now.

"Say..." The man continued, "Are you for sale? I seem to remember a boy with eyes like yours. This was less than ten years ago, he was a sweet lad; felt real good." The man cackled.

Alexander's face blanched and he looked at the man, sickened and dropped the figurine he was holding and lurched into the crowd, the man's cackles followed from behind him. Alexander tore through the crowd and once he was quite a ways down the dock and he stopped seeing red, did he begin to slow. A woman walked past him, glaring in his direction for knocking her to the side. He shrugged sheepishly back at her.

Slaves were being unloaded from the ship now and Alexander was very close to it. He could see the tired bodies being offloaded, the men and women were nearly naked and shone beneath the bright overhead sun. He averted his eyes, feeling guilty for staring, as if that somehow made him a part of this, as if it made him complicit. 

Alexander turned him away and found himself in front of a fruit stand. He eyed the fruit restlessly and started picking over pieces, his mind elsewhere than on the actual fruit. He spied a lush looking mango and reached for it but another hand reached for it first, a darker hand. Alexander looked up at the face of the person who stole his fruit and the face looked back at him. He suddenly felt a shock of recognition. The man was, or had been, a slave and was the same age as him. He had lean rippling muscles from days of hard work and labor and in his face was set with a kind of self-determination, one that Alexander recognized in himself. The man's hard face softened, "Master Hamilton?"

"Ajax?" Alexander could barely get the words out.

Ajax grinned and took a bite of the fruit he had just paid for. 

"My God, where have you been this whole time?" Alexander asked.

"Mr. Lavien ended up selling me to a rich Danish merchant. I'm overseeing his goods on this shipment," Ajax said pointing to the merchant ship and then pulling out a letter of writ that the merchant provided, showing that Ajax was his executor.

Alexander's face lit up. Ajax had been one of his first friends on the island. They had done everything together and were inseparable. At the time, Alexander didn't think too much on the fact that Ajax belonged to his mother. Ajax was a slave. Now, Alexander's face burned with shame and he dropped it again.

"Just... call me Alexander, please."

Ajax clapped a hand on Alexander's shoulder and said, "Come with me, there's something I have been longing to see." Alexander looked up, admiring the long taut bare arm on his shoulder. "Lead the way," Alexander said.

The two boys turned men wound their way through the dockyard stalls and into the town. Ajax looked around, often commenting on things that had changed or little things he remembered about the town. Alexander watched him with incredulity and wonder, amazed to be in the presence of his old friend and so joyous to see the bewilderment on Ajax's face. Ajax led the two of them to a path on the outskirts of town that wound through the foliage and trees. They stopped after trekking for a ways and Ajax bent down into a clear stream to take a drink, laughing and then splashing Alexander in the face. Alexander watched the water droplets run down Ajax's chest and Ajax caught him looking and splashed him again. "Let's get going," Ajax said laughing.

They continued through the jungle and trees and eventually after winding their way around the mountain they came out on top, where a small shanty rested. Alexander gasped, he could see the whole island below them: the ships in the harbor, the town, the trees, the sun in the distance, and even far across the water he thought he could make out more land. Ajax turned to look at Alexander, the sun in his hair and light in his eyes. He looked beautiful and alive and so real. How long had he dreamed of his old friend and now to see him standing in front of him like this?

"Remember? We used to come to this place all the time," Ajax asked.

"Yes," Alexander whispered dreamily, still looking out into the distance. He glanced over at Ajax, who wasn't looking out over at the island, but at him. Alexander inhaled as Ajax came over and took him in his arms and kissed him on the lips. He felt enveloped by powerful muscles and sunk into them, feeling wanted. Alexander was on fire now from his lips to his loins as he caressed Ajax's flesh with his fingertips.

Their lips parted and Alexander suddenly said, shocked, "They could kill you for this."

"No one is around, they never have to know," Ajax said reassuringly, pushing them both down onto the grass.

 

***********

 

"Réveille-Toi! Sleepy," A french voice said.

Hamilton blinked and was blinded momentarily by the bright sun overhead. A finger flicked him on his ear and he said, "Ow!" and slapped it away playfully. He arched until he was on his elbows and shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. Lafayette was crouched over him as he lay on the grass in his backyard. It was midday and the sun was still high in the sky. The spring air was cool, if still a bit chilly. He had come out to the garden in his backyard an hour ago, trying to clear the pain in his head after imbibing too much alcohol the night prior.

The night prior... Hamilton groaned and fell back into the grass, closing his eyes tightly. Washington, damn it, he had acted so foolishly in front of him. Washington had clearly been upset at the impropriety taking place in his house and then had been polite enough to escort Hamilton home and Alexander had made a fool of himself in his inebriated state. 

Lafayette sprawled on the grass next to Hamilton and picked a blade of grass, he twirled it in his fingers and then brushed it across Alexander's ear teasingly. Alexander tensed and laughed, swatting at Lafayette again. 

"So Hammy? You and ze General, eh?" Lafayette twirled the blade of grass in front of his face and gave a mischievous grin.

"Ugh, no. Don't remind me." Hamilton covered his face with his hands.

"Are you sure you weren't just dreaming about him?" Lafayette motioned to Hamilton's pants, where there had been a noticeable bulge. Hamilton looked down, surprised. "No!" He responded defiantly. "I... was dreaming about something else."

"Hammy, I saw ze General's face last night." Lafayette flung the blade of grass at Hamilton. "He looked like a jealous lover and I had just taken his prize." Lafayette made a growling noise and nipped at Hamilton.

"That's just not the case, Lafayette. He's been a bit more sensitive around me lately since..."

"Since what?" Lafayette asked inquisitively.

"Nothing," Hamilton mumbled.

"Well, in that case, if there's nothing stopping me, I'm just going to have to take you for myself." Lafayette straddled Hamilton, making sure to grind his crotch into the other man's. Hamilton gasped and smiled, taking Lafayette by the hips.

"I leave for Virginia today, let's make the best of it, shall we?" Lafayette said bending down and running his lips over Hamilton's face, starting at the top of his forehead to the nape of his neck. Hamilton smiled and closed his eyes with contentment, letting out an audibly fulfilled noise. Lafayette moved his hips back and forth, grinding his hardness against Hamilton's own rising need.

"Christ," Hamilton muttered, rarely using the lord's name in vain, "I had forgotten how big you are."

Lafayette looked pleased and grinned widely. He bent down and their lips met, tongues swirling together. Hamilton kissed him greedily, as if he needed every part of Lafayette. Lafayette ran a hand through Hamilton's hair and then lightly tugged on it, making Hamilton gasp as Lafayette kissed his way down his neck. 

Lafayette looked up from the kiss as he straddled Hamilton so he could gaze into the other man's eyes. Hamilton opened his own lids lazily, looking back up at Lafayette. Hamilton's chest was rising and falling quickly and his lips were slick from their kisses. The sun caught in Hamilton's eyes and Lafayette was suddenly aware of how beautiful and deep they were. 

"Zis is my favorite look," Lafayette said dreamily. 

"What?" Hamilton scrunched his face up and laughed. Lafayette pinched both of his cheeks until they were red and made a playful noise. 

"Hammy, je ne peux plus le prendre," Lafayette groaned and closed his eyes.

"Oui..." Hamilton responded breathlessly, running his thumb over Lafayette's bottom lip.

"What are you waiting for?" Lafayette asked, as if in torment. Hamilton laughed and shoved Lafayette off of him. Lafayette rose to his feet and helped Hamilton up. They fell in together again, kissing greedily and Hamilton palmed the large bulge in Lafayette's pants. Lafayette gasped and then grinned, with a hungry look on his face. He took Hamilton by the hand and pulled him toward the house quickly. They stumbled through the doorway and manged to make it upstairs, giggling with the energy of children doing something naughty. 

Once in Hamilton's bedroom, Lafayette tore his shirt off and Hamilton followed. They threw their shoes into a corner along with their stockings and breeches and then fell onto the bed in one naked heap, laughing and kissing and moaning and touching. Their hands roamed all over each other's bodies. Lafayette was tall, muscled and well-defined with beautiful long hands, full lips, and powerful legs. Hamilton felt puny compared to Lafayette and marveled at the man's physique. 

"My King," Hamilton said with lust and admiration, admitting the forbidden and Lafayette tsk-tsked him and bit at Hamilton's nipple. 

"Take me, Hammy," Lafayette said and Hamilton felt his heart skip a beat. He was as hard as a rock and every touch and caress from Lafayette made him dizzy with desire. He wanted this, he needed this. 

Breathlessly he reached into a drawer on the nightstand and procured a bottle of ointment. He shook some out into his hands and brought the cupped palms to his face, it smelled pleasant, like roses. Hamilton copiously lathered the oil on himself and Lafayette groaned at seeing him touching his stiff erection. 

"O, you're beautiful," Lafayette groaned and leaned over to kiss Hamilton's stomach. "I want you so badly, S'il te plait."

Hamilton pulled Lafayette by his hips a little too eagerly and entered him. Lafayette gasped and Hamilton reminded himself to go slower as he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. Hamilton's head felt like it was going to explode. The ecstasy was unbearable and it had been so long that he had felt something this good. Lafayette's hard body was stretched above him, moving up and down in a rhythm. Hamilton glanced down to where he was entering Lafayette and almost spent himself at the sight. He squeezed his eyes together and took a deep breath again so he could keep going. He caressed one hand down the front of Lafayette's chest and marveled at the sight. He was still in a state of disbelief that someone as perfect as Lafayette could desire someone so average at him. 

Hamilton's other hand, slick with oil moved to Lafayette's thick cock and he grasped it. Lafayette bucked into his hands and sent a shock wave of pleasure through Hamilton as Lafayette tightened on Hamilton's own cock. Lafayette let out a loud moan and Hamilton was thankful that no one was around to hear it but himself. He moved his hand up and down over Lafayette's pink head and foreskin, but could barely pay attention to what he was doing, as he was feeling so delirious with pleasure. Lafayette pushed Hamilton's hand away and took his own cock in his own hand and began to stroke it as he moved up and down. Hamilton knew he was close to the edge now and grasped at Lafayette's hips, just trying to hold on. 

"Lafayette..." Hamilton moaned hoarsely. His fingers gripped the skin on Lafayette's hips so hard they left impressions and then he spent his seed after a great buildup, stars blinding his eyes. Lafayette saw Hamilton throw his head back and his eyes rolled back into his head. Lafayette yelled, "Mon Dieu!" and finished himself in a few quick strokes, his seed discharging on Hamilton's chest, neck, and mouth. Hamilton gasped, still dizzy and blinked a couple of times, trying to regain his senses. He licked the hot, sticky seed from him lips willingly and then went slack into the bed. Lafayette rolled over and collapsed next to Hamilton, breathing heavily, an arm slung across Hamilton's chest. Lafayette looked up from his heavy breathing and cupped Hamilton's chin in his hand and laughed weakly as Hamilton shuddered and moaned.

Hamilton opened his eyes and looked over at Lafayette and said, "That was amazing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to double check historical facts, but things probably slip through the cracks.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson makes reparations.

"Admit it, you're going to need Hamilton's help." 

James Madison and Thomas Jefferson strolled down the block after a particularly long session of congress. They had just spent eight hours indoors and although it was still early in the year, the room had been quite stuffy. Jefferson had listened to Hamilton speaking on the topic of the newly created federal bank for about five of those hours and he wasn't afraid to let his disagreement and disinterest show. Hamilton had barely given him a glance throughout the whole thing, as if he didn't even exist. When Jefferson did speak up on the matter, often against, Hamilton would shoot him and icy stare or cut him down with words, something he was very good at doing. Jefferson had been a master at debate, having much practice at it over the years, but Hamilton seemed to excel at cutting him down especially. It was apparent that a good ploughing spurred Hamilton in an entirely different direction than Jefferson had hoped for.

Jefferson looked annoyed when Madison glanced his way.

"The only way to get your education initiative passed is through bipartisan cooperation," Madison reminded Jefferson again. "You need Hamilton. He has the the most power on the Federalist side of the government AND he has Washington in his pocket."

Jefferson grumbled, looking sour, "More like in his pants. Besides, I've burned those bridges, now haven't I?"

"So repair them." Madison nudged Jefferson. 

"Easy for you to say, you didn't spit on a man while he was down." Jefferson threw up his hands in defeat.

"I don't envy your position, Thomas." Madison shook his head.

"Fine." Jefferson stopped, turning towards Madison. "Deliver him a message for me. I should like to meet with him again at my residence. Arrange a time and date. Do impress upon him that I am entirely at his mercy." Jefferson reached out and brushed off James Madison's shoulder and then straightened his cravat. 

Madison whistled. "Such a task may be nigh near impossible, but I'll see what I can accomplish.

"Do." Jefferson shot Madison a forceful look and prodded him in the chest with his cane.

 

*************

"You're kidding me." Hamilton looked over the top of his reading glasses at the figure of James Madison before him.

"I assure you, this is no joke." Madison shifted uncomfortably, covering his mouth with a handkerchief. He had caught Hamilton in his office in the capitol buried under papers and writing furiously. Madison looked down at Hamilton's ink-stained hand and wondered distastefully why anyone would want those grubby hands on them.

"What's the angle?" Hamilton asked, looking suspicious.

"No angle. Thomas wants to make amends with you and he assures you that he is entirely at your mercy."

"What aren't you telling me?" Hamilton with a flick of his hand popped the quill back into the ink pot.

"Thomas may need something from you." Madison shifted again, his hands behind his back. Hamilton snorted and leaned back in his chair in a leisurely position, hands coming up behind his head.

"Then why isn't he here now, begging?"

"Oh, there's plenty of time for that," Madison said ruefully. Hamilton rocked back and forth in the chair, staring past Madison and thinking in silence, with only the creak of the wood audible between them.

"I don't like it, but..." Hamilton trailed off, gathering his thoughts for a moment. The wood slammed back to the floor and he said, "I'll meet with him."

James Madison inclined his head, trying to hide his smile. 

 

************

A house servant met Hamilton at the door, taking his cloak. Hamilton straightened himself out. He would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he was nervous. Hamilton took a breath and straightened his shoulders. _Never show them your weaknesses._ Thomas Stevens had told him that after his mother had died and he apprenticed under him. Stevens saw what an emotional young boy he had been and had likely been trying to give him some good advice. Hamilton took a deep breath and thought for a second about leaving, teetering in the doorway.

"Hamilton, up here, if you will." Thomas stood at the top of the stairway and said this unemotionally, face looking blank and non-threatening. He then turned and disappeared into one of the rooms. 

The servant had left him and Hamilton felt his stomach fluttering and felt sick. _Damn it, pull it together,_ he told himself and began to ascend the stairs.

When he entered the room- the same room as before -Jefferson was seated- like before. Jefferson was holding a glass and was drinking, one leg slung over the other. Hamilton paused in the doorway, trying to appear blank. The two men glanced at each other for some moments, the silence growing between them.

"A drink?" Jefferson offered and Hamilton shook his head.

"I..." Jefferson rose from the chair and Hamilton hardened, "want to apologize." Thomas was looking into his glass now, swirling the liquid around in a circle. Thomas looked up and said, "What happened was wrong. What... I did to you... was wrong." Thomas drained his glass and then turned to the decanter on the side table to refill. Hamilton let out a hard breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. They felt sweaty now. He could feel the perspiration on his forehead.

Thomas turned back around and had another glass this time. He took a step toward Hamilton, who flinched. Thomas walked an arms-length from him and held out the glass, ignoring Hamilton's refusal of the drink. Hamilton took the glass and fidgeted nervously. Thomas stepped away, walking back towards the decanter. Hamilton drained the glass, feeling the warm liquid spreading out in his belly and calming his nerves. 

"Alexander, we have to work together from now on," Thomas offered. "It's only fair that- after what I did -you get some restitution. I'm willing to offer that. I should pay for the breach which I committed upon you." Jefferson drained another glass and Hamilton realized the man had been drinking before he even got there. Jefferson wouldn't look at him, he glanced out the window and swirled the liquid around after he poured some more. 

Finally, Jefferson looked over at Hamilton and said, "Don't you want to punish me for what I did to you?" He sat the glass down and began to unbutton his coat while Hamilton looked upon the display, stunned. Hamilton couldn't help but to watch Jefferson's ringed fingers work their way meticulously down his audacious garb.

"What?" Hamilton finally said with disbelief. "What is this?"

"I'm trying to make amends," Jefferson said, throwing his waistcoat off and stripping down to his underclothes by throwing the gaudy garments onto the nearby chair. Jefferson got down on each knee carefully. He knelt now in front of Hamilton and then looked up at him, expectantly. "Don't you want to pay me back for what I did to you? Now is your chance."

Hamilton fidgeted with the ring on his finger and then walked quickly over to the decanter, pouring himself another glass. He quickly consumed the bitter liquid and coughed a little, looking over his shoulder at Jefferson. 

"This has got to be some kind of sick joke," Hamilton spat. 

"No..." Jefferson said, sounding sincere. "I mean it, Alexander. I deserve to be punished for what I did to you."

"Don't call me that! And stop prostrating yourself in front of me, I see through your games and I see through you." There was fury on Hamilton's face now and the corner of Jefferson's mouth upturned. At the sight of the grin, Hamilton couldn't reign in his fury anymore and he marched over and smacked Jefferson square in the mouth. The blow sent Jefferson's head back and his mind reeling. He started breathing heavy as he looked back towards Hamilton above him. In his mind he thought of one word: victory.

Hamilton looked in shock at what he had just done and withdrew his hand. He turned and marched to the decanter again and poured another glass, guzzling it quickly. 

"Yes, just like that," Jefferson said, his voice silky and smooth. "Hit me again, Alexander."

Hamilton's face turned caustic. "What is wrong with you man?"

"My shame is deep," Jefferson revealed, lamenting. "I can't help but to relive those moments over and over again in my mind. The sight of you underneath me as I fuck you and then defile you with my seed. You looked so helpless, Alexander. You're not helpless, are you?" Hamilton's eyes were burning and he was gripping the glass so tightly his hand was turning white. Jefferson tilted his head back and closed his eyes, smiling, as if reliving those moments in his mind. He could hear Hamilton's steps towards him and then another blow as stars lit up his vision and sent his head into a spin. Jefferson could taste blood now inside of his mouth. He opened his eyes and licked the blood from the edge of his lip. He savored the taste.

"I'm at your mercy, Alexander," Jefferson whispered and looked up at the other man with mock deference on his face and perhaps a bit of yearning.

Hamilton's face was dark and his eyes shone with hatred. He unbuttoned his breeches and took out his hard member. When Jefferson saw it, he grinned with triumph. Hamilton smacked him in the face with it and while Jefferson was laughing he grabbed Jefferson by his thick hair and shoved his cock down Jefferson's throat. Jefferson sputtered a bit but then began sucking eagerly. Hamilton closed his eyes with pleasure and groaned at Jefferson's expert mouth work, but then he opened his eyes again and remembered what led to this situation in the first place. A shadow fell across his countenance again and another hard slap rang out across Jefferson's face, but this time he barely reacted. Jefferson was starting to turn red from being struck so much. Hamilton looked down at the full lips wrapped around his shaft and he almost spent himself, but then shoved Jefferson off. 

"Stop," he panted. Jefferson smirked up at him, lips still slick with saliva. Hamilton did his best to scowl back. "Get on the bed now, I'm going to fuck you."

Jefferson was elated and said, "Yes, master." He stripped his undershirt and trousers off to reveal his own erection and Hamilton gasped again, remembering what Jefferson had done to him with it. Still smiling devilishly, Jefferson crawled onto the bed.

Hamilton positioned himself behind Jefferson, taking him by the hips and pulling him towards his cock. He impaled Jefferson on his shaft and both men grunted. Jefferson hissed, wadding up the blanket beneath him with both fists. 

"How does it feel now?" Hamilton taunted him. Jefferson groaned again, trying not to let too much pleasure show. Jefferson's skin was flushed and heat rose to his face. His own cock was pressed between his stomach and the blanket and each thrust sent a wave of pleasure and pain through him. Hamilton's hand came down hard on Jefferson's behind and he yelped, jumping slightly. This reaction sent a returning wave of ecstasy down Hamilton's own stiff member. Hamilton growled and dug his fingers in, trying to hold on. Hamilton was being decidedly gentler to Jefferson than Jefferson had been to him, Jefferson thought, ironically. 

Hamilton continued to thrust aggressively, pinning each of Jefferson's arms to the bed. The sweat on Jefferson's back shone off of him and Hamilton ran a hand down the slick mess. He brought the perspiration up to his lips and tasted it, as if he were savoring a victory chalice. 

"At least fuck me like you mean it," Jefferson baited Hamilton between his own audible moans. 

"Keep quiet," Hamilton replied emphatically. "You had this coming."

"I hope you remember me next time you touch yourself," Jefferson responded, grunting. This led Hamilton to start thrusting harder and expelling more breath with harder groans. Jefferson could tell he was close and closed his eyes, feeling his own hardness rub against the bed, savoring the feeling of being consumed for pleasure.

"Yes..." Jefferson seethed, "tell me how you're going to punish me. Tell me how dreadful I've been, how atrocious, how vile!" 

Hamilton wrapped a hand around Jefferson's neck and snarled, "Don't ever think of trying to use me again. I will utterly destroy you." Then Hamilton cried out, his fingers digging into Jefferson's neck and skin, each final thrust heavy and hard. Jefferson wedged a hand between his bursting cock and the blanket and gave it a few tugs, spending his seed in blinding, ragged, elation while sobbing with a ragged voice. Hamilton tensed every muscle in his body, slammed his cock home and then collapsed on top of Jefferson, his seed spilling from Jefferson's defiled hole.

Hamilton rolled off of Jefferson who still lay there, gasping with his chest heaving. 

"Jesus Christ," Hamilton said, his own chest rising and falling in rapid succession. He wiped the sweat from his brow and blinked a few times. "What was it that you wanted anyway?"

Jefferson looked over and grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how in Dragon Age 2 you can get someone in your party to hate you and yet you still can end up fucking them? Yeah, that's what's going on here.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from afar and a visit to Washington's.

Washington heard a knock at his door that was loud and insistent. He put down the book he had been reading and glanced out the window, but he was unable to see who the caller was. Washington went over to his door, smoothing down his evening jacket and making sure he was properly attired to receive visitors. He opened the door and Hamilton brushed past him looking disheveled and like he hadn't slept last night. His hair was messy and he was muttering to himself, fretting with a paper in his hand and fidgeting with the other. 

"Oh, good, Sir, you're home," Hamilton said as he brushed past, without waiting for an invitation.

Washington looked bewildered and closed the door, following Hamilton into his drawing room where he paced back and forth on the rug in front of the fire. Hamilton was murmuring just under his breath and pacing quickly back and forth, raising the paper to his eyes and then down again. He covered his eyes and said audibly, "No, no, no!"

Washington was stuck in the entryway of the drawing room, trying to make sense of the spectacle in front of him. Finally he interjected, "What...? What is going on?"

Hamilton kept pacing like he never heard Washington and started to run a hand through worriedly his heap of hair. "Oh God," he whispered.

"Just... STOP!" Washington commanded.

"Huh?" Hamilton paused and looked up, confused. His eyes were red.

"Alexander, what is wrong?" Washington looked worried.

"This!" Hamilton held up the scrunched paper in his hand, presenting it to Washington. "This is the problem!"

Washington took the invitation to stroll over in front of Hamilton who spun again and walked over to the window, looking out of it.

"He's written to me, asking for money." Alexander sighed, defeated. "He said he's on the way from the Caribbean to collect it personally."

Washington looked quizzically and a "who" formed at his lips, but never came out because Hamilton continued, wildly emotional, "Do you know what this could do to me?" Hamilton reeled and faced Washington, coming up to him with open and tearful eyes. "Don't you know what they'll say?" He grabbed the front of Washington's coat and gave it a shake.

"I don't rightfully know," Washington said in his usual calm demeanor. "If you would just slow down for a second and tell me..."

"They're always talking about me - Jefferson, Madison, Burr, and the lot of them! Always talking behind my back! You know what they say about me, don't you, Sir?" Hamilton covered his face with a hand, as if shameful. "You're a bastard, the son of a whore, an orphan, a creole immigrant, not worthy to lick our boots! Not American, oh no! Not anything worthy!" He said, mimicking his detractors, spitting as he spoke the hateful words he had heard his entire life.

"My God," Washington managed to get out, stunned.

"This will give them all the ammunition they need."

"How do you seem to make so many enemies?" Washing asked and shook his head in disbelief. He was used to Hamilton's outbursts from time to time as he tended to be over emotional, but that didn't mean he liked dealing with them when Hamilton decided to blow his top. 

"Son, what is going on?" Washington asked with a level tone of voice and put a steady hand on Alexander's shoulder. This seemed to snap Alexander out of his delusion, as if he was seeing Washington for the first time and Hamilton held up the letter in his hand. Washington took it and started to skim through the page quickly. There was silence between them for a moment as Washington's eyes darted back and forth. He looked up and asked, "He's alive? Your father's still alive?" Washington looked wide-eyed as Alexander had never talked about him. It always seemed to be a sore subject, so it was something Washington never pressed, and now, this. 

Hamilton turned away as if he didn't want Washington to see his face and he sucked in a deep breath. He ran his two hands through his long hair and then dropped them to his sides, fidgeting with each finger. 

"I didn't know; I'm sorry," Washington said softly. 

"He very well may have been dead. He was dead to me," Hamilton replied, his voice breaking with emotion.

"What will you do?" Washington asked.

"He's coming here!" Hamilton turned and said to Washington, pointing at their feet. "What can I do? Pay him off, mitigate the damage, I don't know!"

"There are always people who take advantage of others who have successes in life," Washington offered. 

"I haven't seen him since I was ten, I could very well punch him in the face!" Hamilton scowled.

"Shh, no such talk," Washington said putting both hands on Hamilton's shoulders and squeezing. Hamilton seemed to deflate with Washington's touch and he hung his head, tears forming at the edge of his eyes.

"Do you know what it's like growing up having every person you rely on, everyone you love, leave you?" Hamilton raised his lacy frilled sleeve to blot at his face. Washington didn't speak. "Do you know how badly I longed for just one, ONE person, to stay by my side?"

"You push people away," Washington answered evenly, his hands still on Hamilton's shoulders. "You're afraid of being hurt, so you push people away before they have a chance to get to know you... to love you. Why didn't you accompany your wife when she asked you to leave with her to go upstate? Is your job really more important? Why are you back here fooling around with Lafayette instead?" Washington sounded accusing now. "What the hell is going on with Jefferson? You're not the type to let people take advantage of you."

Hamilton closed his eyes hard and let his head fall back, looking defeated.

"I'm sorry," Hamilton whispered.

"You don't need to apologize to me, son," Washington conceded. "I've always been here for you, even when you pushed me away, I waited for you to come back. But someday, even I'm going to leave you. It's the inevitability of life."

Hamilton opened his watery eyes and looked at Washington before leaning forward and resting his head against Washington's chest. Washington enveloped him in both arms and held him tightly, his heart rising in his chest. Hamilton let the letter slip from his fingers and it started to drift towards the floor lazily.

"I'm depraved, it's true," Hamilton stated. "I've never been able to keep myself from enjoying the company of men and women alike. It's like I don't know how to say no, especially when they offer themselves up to me in such abundance. Even the other day Jefferson asked for another meeting. I knew it would be a bad idea, I knew it!" Washington was still holding Hamilton tight as he rambled his confession. "He said he was sorry for what happened and wanted to make amends. I was suspicious, I couldn't trust him and I knew it! But then he made me angry and he let me take it out on him. He knew how to maneuver me and got what he wanted all along. How I hate... how I despise that man! I just couldn't stop, I couldn't say no to him. But help me God, I just want to be liked, I just want to be loved by others! This is my folly and I'm frightened that this will be my downfall as well."

Washington was silent for a long time and Hamilton was afraid he had really gone and done it. They had their fair share of squabbles and disagreements before. On some occasion they had even devolved into loud shouting matches, where Alexander was doing most of the screaming. Washington knew how to, for the most part, keep calm and collected, but Hamilton had never seen him this stony before. Even on that fateful day where Hamilton had lost his cool and bellowed at him for not trusting him with a command, and worst of all had accused Washington of favoritism and thus not allowing him a dangerous position, Washington had looked irritated, tired, and sad, but he had kept his composure. Hamilton didn't like the silence.

"Alexander..." Washington exhaled loudly. "You've always been good at taking care of yourself, even in tough situations. It's the story of your life. You were a prodigious soldier in the field and even more of an amazing friend to your cohorts and comrades who loved you dearly." Washington picked up Hamilton's face so he could look him in the eye. "Not only that, but you've been the most loyal and genuine adjuvant, confidant, and friend I could have ever asked for. I shall wish all the days of the rest of my life to have had a son like you and lament that we were not connected by blood. You make me so proud son, enormously and tremendously proud. My love for you has never been deeper and more true." Hamilton grasped Washington's hands on each side of his face and his face filled with relief and sincere affection. Washington smiled at the joy in his companion's face and felt his own eyes getting misty, a rather rare occurrence. 

"So, what should we care if some fool who hasn't had the courage or interest in seeing you in over 20 years shows up?" Alexander laughed a much needed laugh between tears as Washington said this. "This man can't take from us what we have. I shall thank him for bringing you into this world and then I shall show him the door. I'll even have him escorted right back to the ship. So, chin up Alexander." Washington lifted Hamilton's chin lightly with his finger. "We'll deal with the dogs as they come. It doesn't matter what they say about you, what they howl and cry in the night. The only thing that matters is what your dear friends think about you, what Eliza and your children think about you, and what your Commander thinks about you."

Alexander smiled and opened his eyes slowly, taking a moment to study Washington's face, his deep eyes, his strong brows, his soft lips. "Please, just once, at least kiss me," Hamilton begged him. 

Washington didn't need to be asked twice and pressed his lips to Alexander's waiting mouth. Hamilton felt Washington pick him up slightly off the ground in powerful arms and his head spun. Their kiss was perfect, Hamilton delighted in Washington's lush lips on his own and Washington, overcome with ardor, couldn't say no to Hamilton's pleading. Washington had never seen Alexander look so hopeless and alone as in that moment and he wanted to fill every part of Alexander with what he so desperately craved. Hamilton fell into Washington's embrace and felt fulfilled in that moment. To be under the power and command of a larger figure was something that he wanted fiercely and was something uniquely satisfied only by another man. 

Their embrace lingered and then broke. Hamilton stepped back, his face was flushed red and he was breathing heavily. Washington opened his eyes slowly, startled that Hamilton had stepped away.

"I..." It took Hamilton more than a moment to compose himself. He brushed the hair out of his face and tried to discreetly adjust his breeches. His eyes darted to and away from Washington, as if embarrassed to be looking him in the face. "I thank you, Sir."

Every inch of Washington was screaming out in his mind to take Alexander again and subjugate every part of his body, but Washington was a master of control and never betrayed the burning desire he felt.

 _YOU IDIOT,_ Hamilton's mind roared. _I want him so badly, Oh Jesus, just keep me from losing my mind. I should kiss him again, I really should._

 _THIS IS THE PRESIDENT. YOU CAN'T HAVE AN AFFAIR WITH HIM,_ his mind shouted back.

"Uh... I have to leave." Hamilton grabbed the letter from the floor and he ran out of the house into the waiting carriage.

Washington groaned, disappointed and fell back onto the sofa. His member was rock hard beneath his breeches and he grabbed it, pumping it furiously. He thought about Alexander on top of him and then came loudly after a few swift strokes, feeling ashamed and disappointed at his brazen lust and his lack of composure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donn't you just love how carriages are waiting around all day, every day? Very convenient.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner with Jefferson.

Alexander Hamilton sat down at the dining table. The restaurant was dimly lit and a candle flickered in the middle of the table. Across from him, Jefferson had been waiting. He sat with a one leg slung over another and sipped a brandy. He was immaculately dressed, as usual, and carried a cane, which Alexander knew was all for show. Jefferson had raised an eyebrow when Hamilton sat down.

"Glad you could make it," Jefferson offered.

"Where's Madison?" Hamilton asked.

"Straight to business, I see," Jefferson lamented.

"Yes, well, I don't relish how frequent these "business" meetings have become," Hamilton snapped back.

Jefferson chuckled and tilted his head back. Hamilton hated the way he always seemed to be the butt of some kind of joke with Jefferson.

The waiter brought a glass for Hamilton and poured him a dram. Hamilton threw it back and then poured himself another glass after waiving the waiter away. This one he took and sipped slowly.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" Hamilton asked Jefferson, disgusted.

The eternally bemused Jefferson replied, "Oh, I can't wait to hear what it is this time."

Hamilton shifted uncomfortably at the prodding and looked around the restaurant, sipping his drink. After stalling, he looked back to Jefferson and said, "Look, Madison won't have anything to do with me, he won't even hear me out."

"He can be like that," Jefferson said, still grinning.

"So, you know him well, you two are practically connected at the hip."

"You don't see him here tonight, do you?" Jefferson asked.

Hamilton exhaled heavily with frustration. "Why do you make everything so difficult?" He asked.

"I only make things difficult for you, Ham." Jefferson looked smug and this made Hamilton even angrier.

"Are you going to make me beg?" Hamilton hissed.

"Your temper is going to be your downfall," Jefferson said calmly. Hamilton leaned back, huffing, and drained his glass. He then poured himself another.

"I need you to speak to Madison on my behalf, secure a meeting. Please..." The last word sounded forced.

"Hmm," Jefferson feigned as if he were thinking about it. "Why should I help you?" He asked pointedly.

"You know that I can return the favor. I'm good for it," Hamilton sounded desperate, leaning forward on the table.

"I don't like you," said Jefferson sitting up. "I don't like dealing with you. You're like a fly buzzing around in my ear, constantly." Jefferson looked serious now. "I don't like pending favors. I don't want you in the government. You're pretentious and annoying. Washington is the only one standing in the way of you and the exit door. Madison hates you. Everyone hates you." Emphasis on everyone. Hamilton's face hardened and he looked like he wanted to throw his drink in Jefferson's face. "But, since I have to deal with you in the meantime, I could be in a position to help you out."

"This isn't another one of your twisted games, is it?" Hamilton said in a lowered voice.

"Games? All of politics is a game, Ham. You're a chess piece, whether you like it or not. The question is, who is moving the pieces?" Hamilton looked weary at Jefferson's cryptic response.

"If you want something from me, you have to be prepared to trade something away," Jefferson continued. Hamilton let out a long sigh and covered his face.

"Jesus Christ," Hamilton murmured. Jefferson raised his glass to his lips again, looking as if he had no cares. "You really are something, you know that?" Hamilton accused.

"You wouldn't be here unless you were also _something_." Jefferson replied. "You can stop pretending already, you're just as bent as I am, and you know it." Jefferson looked irritated now.

"So, what is it this time?" Hamilton asked with mock interest, his voice low. "Are you going to tie me up, make me beg you until you are satisfied? Fulfill one of your sick fantasies?"

"That does sound promising," Jefferson said smugly, "but no."

Jefferson took a drink and leaned in again. "I'm going to help you out with your Madison problem, but first, I'm going to be real gentle with you. I'll make love to you real sweet, like a woman. You'll be coming back for more- you'll be begging me for more -once I'm through with you. You've never been fucked like the way I'm going to fuck you."

If looks could kill then Jefferson would have been dead in that instant with the look that Hamilton was giving him.

"Ooh, yes, angry Hamilton. I do like it when you're angry," Jefferson continued to mock. "You get so pink in the ears and the cheeks. I can't wait to see your face flushed like that when I'm inside of you."

Hamilton almost got up and walked out in that moment, but instead he managed to stay in his chair, seething, his glass shaking in his hand. He took a few moments to compose himself while Jefferson looked on pompously. He reminded himself that Jefferson was just trying to get a rise out of him and by doing so, he would win the game. The game, the stupid game they played! All of them, politics, love, life, was a game. He was a player and he had to compete to get what he wanted.

"Just... stop," Hamilton finally said. "Stop with all of your ridiculous shenanigans. You want to fuck me? Fine. I don't care. But I can promise that I've had better lays than you. You can drop this charade already."

"Oh? I didn't know Washington was such a skilled lover," Jefferson retorted. This somehow caught Hamilton unprepared and he scrunched his face up.

"Ohhhhh, so it's true?" Jefferson asked/stated. "Hmmmph," He snorted. "No wonder you're Washington's golden boy, he's keeping you as his little paramour on the side. I bet he just loves that young sweet ass of yours. How would he feel to know you're prostituting yourself out to me on the side? Or does he already know?" Jefferson wagged his ringed-finger at Hamilton

Hamilton stood up quickly, his chair flying backwards. He looked like he was about to do something to Jefferson when everyone in the restaurant turned to look at the commotion. Hamilton took a deep breath and smoothed out his waistcoat and then sat back down after gathering his seat. Jefferson had a cold look in his eyes and a smile played upon his lips.

"Mr. Jefferson," Hamilton began sweetly. "Do call your carriage, I'm rather eager to leave this place." Jefferson smiled at Hamilton's hasty rebound.

"It's already waiting outside, good Sir," Jefferson replied.

"So," Jefferson leaned forward, "will you take me up on my offer?" His eyes gleamed with lust.

"Why yes, Mr. Jefferson, I believe I will," Hamilton answered, his voice syrupy.

Jefferson leaned even closer than before, his voice quiet, "Good, because I can't wait to get you out of those clothes. I'm going to devour you." He felt himself start to fill up at the thought.

"Hmmm," Hamilton replied, knowingly, an eyebrow raised. Jefferson licked his lips and lowered a hand to his pants, adjusting them.

"Let's get out of here," Jefferson urged.

"Yes, let's," Hamilton replied.

 

***************

 

Outside the restaurant, President Washington hopped out of his carriage. He had business downtown that night that included meeting with some important government officials as well as a wealthy citizen. The restaurant was a local hot spot for the New York elites and was a common place to conduct such business meetings. A private room had been reserved in the back and he was eager to begin. He had already eaten a small meal that night as he found that hunger could cloud his mind and judgement.

His carriage had stopped behind the queue in the front of the restaurant and he had decided to exit and walk the short distance himself. As he was closing the carriage door, he straightened his jacket and looked towards the front of the restaurant where he spied Hamilton walking out. Jefferson came quickly behind Hamilton and Washington saw Jefferson reach out and caress the back of Hamilton's neck affectionately. Washington froze as he saw the two figures get into the first carriage together and drive away.

Washington acted immediately and jumped back into his own carriage.

"Catch that carriage! Quickly!" He shouted up at the driver who prompted the horses to go. "Stop them anyway you can!"

 

*************

Jefferson slid up next to Hamilton as soon as the carriage door was closed and the carriage had been spurred to leave. He wrapped an arm around Hamilton and pulled him closer as his mouth started working at Hamilton's neck. Jefferson was ravenous as he sucked and trailed kisses down Hamilton's neck. Jefferson pulled at the cravat, untying it so he could have access to the smooth flesh of Hamilton's throat. Hamilton tried not to moan beneath him because he despised this man and he didn't want to show him that anything he was doing was providing satisfaction, but it was so hard to not cry out softly when those lips hit a sensitive spot of his. Hamilton closed his eyes and tilted his head back and tried desperately to think of Lafayette, Washington, Laurens, ANYONE but Jefferson. Yet Jefferson was still there in his mind and there in front of him in person, the flowery scent of his French perfume mixed with sweat overwhelming Hamilton's senses.

Jefferson slid a hand over Hamilton's thigh and felt up his crotch. The action sent shivers through Hamilton and Jefferson whispered, "Good, you're hard. Now I can tell that you want me." Hamilton was disappointed to find his body betraying his mind. A thought occurred to him that maybe he should just try to enjoy it? It might make things easier, and more fun.

Jefferson's hand was running all over his body as he was pressed close to the carriage wall and close to Jefferson. Jefferson's lips came in to meet Hamilton's mouth and Jefferson sucked at his lips eagerly. Hamilton found himself returning the kiss in kind and lifting his hips towards Jefferson.

"God... Ham... I can't wait to get you back and fuck you," Jefferson said breathlessly between kisses, pushing Hamilton's face away and kissing down the front of his neck again and desperately trying to unbutton the front of his shirt. Hamilton had gripped Jefferson's hair and arm and was panting with desire.

Suddenly the two flew forward as the carriage came to a screeching halt and a horse cried out in the night. Hamilton hit his side on the bench at the opposite end of the carriage and Jefferson fell into a heap next to him. They both looked at each other wide-eyed and then Hamilton scrambled to get up and out of the carriage, thinking there had been an accident with Jefferson following suit behind him. Hamilton held his pained side and gulped in the cool night air as he careened over the wet cobblestones, trying to find out what had happened. There was a carriage in front of them that had come to a halt sideways across the road and it looked like the two horses had a near-miss collision. Jefferson scrambled behind him and let out a exclamation when he saw their predicament. Their carriage driver was yelling at the other carriage driver and the voices echoed through the night, rising sharply.

Hamilton spun as a large figure came up besides them. It was Washington giving a deadly look and looking like a man on a mission. He took Jefferson by the cravat and slammed him hard up against the carriage wall.

"How dare you!" Washington said icily. Jefferson looked completely shocked and didn't say anything. "How dare you!" Washington yelled again.

Hamilton was the one to pull Washington off and Jefferson straightened himself out, looking a little perturbed now.

"What is the meaning of this?" Hamilton said heatedly. "Why did you stop the carriage?" His arms were out now, gesturing wildly.

"I'm not about to let Jefferson take you off and have his way with you!" He pointed a finger in Hamilton's face.

"That's for me to decide; stop meddling in my affairs!" Hamilton shouted loudly and suddenly he saw a passing couple who looked worried on the sidewalk and he grabbed Washington by the arm and pulled him to an area less visible to the public eye.

"Alexander, I was there, I know what he did to you!" Washington yelled back.

Hamilton was fuming as he put his fingers to his head. "You need to stop this! This... coddling! First it was Lafayette and now this! You've gone too far!"

"You're the one that has gone too far!" Washington poked Hamilton in the chest hard. "I trusted you! I appointed you Treasury Secretary! I thought you could get things done, but instead you've made everyone hate you! You can't work with people who hate you! You, Sir, have gone too far!"

Hamilton was shocked at the formal tone in Washington's voice. "What do you think I'm doing, you old fool? I've been scraping by for as long as I can remember, I've been doing whatever it takes to survive. I'm surviving, I'm making my way and I don't need you to interfere at every turn!"

The insult hit Washington like a heavy blow to the chest as he felt the pain spread out from his heart into the rest of his body. Alexander had used the one thing he was insecure about, their age difference, against him.

"Young man, if I may remind you, you wouldn't be here today if it weren't for me! I'm the one who appointed you, I'm the one who gave you command, I'm the one who made you part of my cabinet!" Washington's voice rose with every point he made. "So you could very well show a little respect!"

"You're the one who told me I had to get the debt plan through!" Hamilton gestured wildly at himself and Washington stepped back, never having seen Alexander so unhinged. "This is because of you! You could have helped me, you know? You could have spoken to some people for me; people like you! But no! The almighty Washington can't deign to help the lowly folk under him, can he?"

"Stop this nonsense at once Alexander!"

"Fine, you want to know the truth?" Hamilton laughed. "I don't have to sleep with Jefferson or anyone else to get what I want, I do it because I like it. I do it because it feels good to be humiliated and used by him. I do it because it feels good to be made dirty. I do it because I'm worthless inside and that's how he makes me feel and I like it."

Washington shook his head and dropped it in shame, closing his eyes.

"God, Alexander." Washington seemed stunned and then after a couple of seconds of silence he relented, "Fine, I won't get involved in your affairs anymore." Washington turned and walked back to his carriage, defeated. Hamilton stood rooted to the spot and watched Washington leave, the realization slowly spreading throughout him. The hurt and the shame growing in his stomach.

When Hamilton got back to the carriage, Jefferson had been sitting inside this whole time, his legs spread out over the seat on the other side as he reclined, a stony look on his face. He didn't look at Hamilton as he closed the carriage door and sat down next to him. The carriage began to move again as the two men sat in silence. Hamilton put his hands in his face, his elbows resting on his legs.

"I'm sorry," Jefferson said.

That was the first genuine thing Hamilton had heard from Jefferson yet, in all the time he had known him. He exhaled slowly, not answering.

"Look... why don't we postpone this for another time?" Jefferson offered, seeming uncomfortable.

Hamilton remained silent, his head in his hands and then he looked up and forward and said, "No."

"Uh... are you sure? I don't know what just happened, but it didn't seem good." Jefferson seemed bewildered.

"I said no," Hamilton said again, forcefully, continuing to look at the other side of the carriage wall.

Jefferson sighed, "You're a persistent man, Ham."

Hamilton dropped his head again and Jefferson saw teardrops hit the carriage floor.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson... consoles?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NC-17 y'all.

"Frankly, this has quite killed the mood," Jefferson remarked.

"Oh really? I didn't realize there was a mood to begin with," Hamilton replied snarkily. 

"Associating with you is becoming dangerous to my health," Jefferson said.

"Yeah, well, I won't exactly be mourning if something were to happen to you."

"Washington's likely to go before either of us."

"Shut... up," Hamilton said throwing his hands up to his head as if trying to block out Jefferson's voice. He was reminded of why he hated this man. He was also reminded of what he had just said to Washington and he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the carriage. How could he have said what he did? Shame burned tightly in his chest.

A finger flicked him in the ear. "Stop sulking," Jefferson warned.

"Or what?" Hamilton spun his head to address Jefferson, confrontational.

"Or..." Jefferson leaned in close, "I'm going to have to make you."

"I thought you said you were going to be gentle."

"Yes, of course." Jefferson was eyeing Hamilton now with renewed hunger. 

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Jefferson stated. Hamilton groaned. Jefferson reached out to put a hand on his shoulder and Hamilton smacked it away.

"Oh, what happened? A moment ago you were practically begging me to fuck you," Jefferson asked.

"You're right, the mood has been killed," Hamilton stated.

"So let's rekindle it."

Hamilton sighed again. 

"Look, I can help you forget about daddy Washington," Jefferson continued.

"Stop talking about him!" Hamilton looked angry.

"It's too easy to push your buttons. You're explosive, you know that?" Jefferson laughed.

"OK, so help me forget," Hamilton relented. 

"Gladly." Jefferson appeared triumphant. 

The carriage pulled up to the estate sometime later and both men disembarked. Jefferson walked in front of Hamilton with an almost swagger. Hamilton felt himself rolling his eyes behind Jefferson's back. Jefferson was walking with that gaudy cane that Hamilton knew he didn't need. 

Once they got inside, Jefferson ordered some wine. Hamilton thought with an errant notion that he shouldn't spill any on himself, lest it stain his clothes. Jefferson could tell Hamilton's mind was in another place and he tried to get Hamilton's attention by urging him into one of the bedrooms. Hamilton sat down on the bed and sipped wine while Jefferson peeled off his coat and then stripped his white lacy undershirt off. Hamilton was stunned as he saw Jefferson's physique. He had a wide frame with well-muscled arms and a chest that was very defined. His stomach was flat and toned and his neck and shoulders were broad and robust. Hamilton suddenly felt inadequate next to the man standing in front of him. 

Jefferson could see the shock in Hamilton's eyes and he smiled, predatory and able-bodied. 

Hamilton took a big swig of the wine and said, "You promised." Jefferson thought he could sense some apprehension behind Hamilton's big round eyes. 

"I never go against my word, Ham." Jefferson strode over to Hamilton who still had the same look on his face and he reached out to take Hamilton's chin in his hand. Jefferson leaned down and kissed Hamilton tenderly. All Hamilton could think about was not dropping the wine. 

When they broke Jefferson stepped back and asked, "So, how was that?"

Hamilton nodded eagerly as he drained the rest of his glass. Jefferson took the glass from Hamilton's hand and set it on the table next to the wine and then came back to stand in front of Hamilton and started undoing the buttons on his jacket. Hamilton couldn't keep from staring at the strong arms that undressed him and he didn't want to admit that he felt a little intimidated. 

"You're trembling, Ham," Jefferson stated with a bit of satisfaction. "Are you scared of me?" Jefferson looked like he was enjoying this entirely too much.

Hamilton sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. Jefferson seemed to pick up easily on any kind of sign of weakness and behind his promises and his cool demeanor, Hamilton knew he was the type of person who was capable of turning ugly at any moment.

Jefferson put a hand up to Hamilton's face and he flinched. Jefferson was loving every moment as he caressed his hand down Hamilton's face and over his lips and then down his neck, stopping at the nape to continue unbuttoning Hamilton's clothes. 

"I'm going to make you scream my name," Jefferson said in a sultry voice. "You're going to beg me to let you climax and then you're going to thank me." Hamilton blushed a deep red and wondered if he should turn back now. Part of him wanted to run and get away from this situation and this man that had made his power known so easily before, but part of him was feeling insanely lustful for the sexual attentions of this dangerous man. To be subjugated by him was humiliating and painful, but now he wanted to feel those hands on him and inside every part of him.

"Yes, just like that," Jefferson whispered as he saw the desire building in Hamilton's eyes and witnessed the physical manifestation of that desire.

Jefferson took off Hamilton's coat and threw it down and then started to work on the buttons of his blouse and untying the lace. He kissed Hamilton's neck and Hamilton moaned. Jefferson helped Hamilton out of the lacy undershirt and ran his hand across Hamilton's bare skin, which elicited prickles of goose flesh. He had never seen Hamilton's full bare torso before and he liked what he saw, the smooth skin, the small but defined arms, and the dark rings around his nipples. He wanted to take him right then and there, but no, he promised. 

Hamilton could see the precarious flash in Jefferson's eyes and wondered, am I really doing this?

Jefferson pushed him down lightly on the bed and climbed on top of him. He pushed his cock into Hamilton's crotch, which got a rise out of him and a moan escaped his lips. Only the thin material of their breeches was the barrier between the two. Jefferson intertwined his fingers with Hamilton's as he lay on top of him and then kissed with a hungry mouth. Hamilton responded, equally hungry and equally aroused. Jefferson started kissing the length of Hamilton's body, from his neck, to his sternum, and down his belly. When he got to the top button of Hamilton's pants, he undid them, and then another, and another. He caressed the prick that was beneath the cloth and Hamilton moaned again, panting, his stomach rising and falling quickly in succession. 

"Do you want it?" Jefferson asked now as the took the hard shaft in his hand and rubbed with his thumb as Hamilton squirmed. Hamilton looked up, flushed red and nodded quickly. 

"Ohoho, no..." Jefferson teased. "You have to say it. Say that you want me."

Jefferson continued to tease with his thumb over the cloth of the breeches and Hamilton bucked into his hand, finally managing to get out, "Yes... I want it. Please." 

Jefferson congratulated himself on his small victory and pulled down the breeches that were in the way, exposing pale, hairy legs and a hard, average-sized cock. Jefferson took off the rest of Hamilton's clothes quickly and procured a bottle of a thick, viscous substance.

"Really? You had that this whole time?" Hamilton looked in disbelief. 

"Of course," Jefferson replied, cocky. 

Hamilton looked miffed and replied with, "Asshole."

"Indeed," Jefferson agreed and lubed up his fingers, nudging at Hamilton's hole and swirling around the edge with his middle finger. Hamilton gasped and Jefferson asked, "What was that again? Something about your asshole?" He slipped a finger in slowly and felt Hamilton tighten around it, moaning. 

"Uh... I don't know," Hamilton lost his train of thought, face and ears bright red, squirming at Jefferson's touch. Then Jefferson's mouth came down around his cock and he stiffened, exclaiming, "Oh my God!"

Jefferson entered a second digit as he kept sucking, loosening the hole. He could feel Hamilton's body spasm on his fingers as he rode the throes of pleasure. Slowly Jefferson pleasured with mouth and fingers, every movement causing a moan from his subject and he delighted in the pleasure he was causing, knowing it gave him control. 

Jefferson could feel Hamilton was getting close so he stopped sucking and Hamilton looked down, eager to finish, desperate for release. 

"Not yet," Jefferson said with a grin. Hamilton looked frustrated and his head fell back onto the bed. Jefferson curled his fingers inside of Hamilton and he slipped his tongue out to lick across the shaft and Hamilton jerked and cried out. Jefferson laughed.

"You want to finish? I can help you finish," Jefferson teased.

"Yes, please, enough," Hamilton begged as his toes curled and his eyes squeezed closed.

Jefferson slowly took his fingers out and then stood up, unbuttoning his own pants. In a daze Hamilton looked up and he could see Jefferson liberating his massive cock. Now all he craved was release as every part of him burned with wanting. Jefferson lathered a good amount of lube onto himself and then laid down next to Hamilton. He put an arm beneath Hamilton's head and pulled him in closer, positioning his cock at the back door. The other hand ran over Hamilton's body, which was warm, tingly, and sweaty. 

"Yes, just like that," Jefferson whispered in Hamilton's ear. "I want your body." A finger ran across Hamilton's nipple and he arched to it. "Your young, sweet, body," Jefferson kept whispering as he caressed, his firm cock rubbing at the hole and prodding. The arm that was under Hamilton's head came around and he stuck the unsullied fingers into Hamilton's wet, waiting, plump mouth. Hamilton was breathing heavily, meeting every caress with a moan and sucking at Jefferson's fingers.

"Say you want me again, Ham," Jefferson urged, prodding with his stiff member, evoking whines. He took his fingers out of Hamilton's mouth and used them to grab a chunk of hair lightly and then he began to kiss the back of Hamilton's neck, his hot breath meeting the now wet skin and sending chills through Hamilton's body.

'Yes, I want you," Hamilton implored, pressing himself down on Jefferson's cock.

Now it was Jefferson's turn to gasp at the sudden rush of pleasure. He tightened both arms around Hamilton and held him close, wanting to finish in three strokes, but he kept himself rigid and tried to compose himself so he wouldn't finish so quickly. He had to remind himself to go slow and steady even if he wanted to pound Hamilton into oblivion. Jefferson released his breath after the initial intake of shock and then nuzzled his lips to Hamilton's neck, kissing as he moved in and out slowly. His hand came up again to caress the mane of hair and he twirled a finger through it, inhaling. His other hand felt for Hamilton's own stiff cock, tiny in comparison, and he stroked it, his rather large hand covering most of the shaft. Hamilton bucked on him and he has to brace himself in order to not release his seed. 

"Yes," Jefferson hissed in his ear, "young, tight, small, just the way I like it." 

In the back of Hamilton's mind through the haze of ecstasy, he remembered something Lafayette had said to him about Jefferson's time in Paris and he was revolted, but it couldn't break through his need to reach climax at this moment. He gyrated back and forth quicker, wanting, needing release so incredibly bad. Jefferson's hand clamped down on his cock and Jefferson moaned again in his ear, "I'll let you relieve yourself if you say my name." At this Jefferson prodded Hamilton with his own member, making Hamilton crazy with yearning. 

"Say it, Ham." Jefferson had him in a vice grip as he kissed the back of his neck again, sliding in and out deliberately. The tip of Jefferson's penis hit something inside of Hamilton that radiated with pleasure with each stroke and he struggled to quicken the pace, but was held in place by Jefferson's powerful arms. 

"Goddamn you," Hamilton cried out.

"It's a start," Jefferson relented and nibbled on Hamilton's ear, making him moan louder.

"You're going to say my name," Jefferson insisted again, driving home hard, which made Hamilton intake a sharp breath. Jefferson's hand still held the rock hard member tightly. It felt ready to burst. 

Jefferson felt himself starting to lose it and he quickened the pace.

"I can't... Ham... I can't..." Jefferson cried out suddenly. He rolled Hamilton on top of him and held him tightly as he pumped with his hips and squeezed Hamilton's hard cock with his sticky hand, the movement causing it to slide in and out.

"Thomas!" Hamilton suddenly exclaimed and warm seed spilled all over Jefferson's hand and Hamilton's chest. Hamilton stiffened on top of him and convulsed as Jefferson climaxed, taking a few quick final strokes and filling up Hamilton with his own seed. Jefferson grunted and held Hamilton tightly as he shuddered beneath him. He gulped in air as if he had forgotten to breathe. 

Jefferson rolled Hamilton off of him, Hamilton's back slick with sweat and Jefferson's stomach covered in it too. They both lay panting and shuddering. Jefferson lazily put a hand on Hamilton's shoulder.

Hamilton felt vague revulsion like he had after every encounter with Jefferson. His head spun and he closed his eyes against the linen on the bed.

Jefferson was trying to gather his breath. He didn't mention his victory out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I need to go take a cold shower after writing this chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson does what Jefferson does best and Lafayette returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some non-con.

Hamilton awoke sometime in the morning, shaking with cold. The dawn had not yet broken and a chill had fallen over everything in the night. Jefferson put an arm around him, pulling him close in. Jefferson kissed his shoulder lightly and said, "I want you again."

Still shaking, Hamilton tried to clear his mind, the fog slowly lifting. The warmth felt good against his skin. "No, once was enough," he managed to get out.

Jefferson held him tighter and rubbed a hand down his chest and then across his genitals. He jumped slightly at the touch.

"Are you quite sure?" Jefferson asked and then smiled. "You don't seem sure."

"I only promised you once," Hamilton replied, without conviction.

Jefferson pressed Hamilton down on the bed and straddled him, lowering a mouth to his nipple and bit lightly.

"No! I..." Hamilton shuddered with the shock of the hot tongue on him.

"Again," Jefferson urged him, breathing hotly on the cold skin. His mouth went to the other nipple and left the first one wet and cool in the chill atmosphere. Hamilton suppressed a moan. "See? You want it too."

Hamilton struggled weakly beneath him, still tired and feeling cold all over with the occasional shock of warmth from Jefferson's ministrations. "Let me up," he said tiredly.

Jefferson reached between them and took Hamilton's cock in his hand. "Oh? You're sure about that?" The member was hard and getting harder to the touch. Hamilton tried not to react, he sucked in his breath and held it, hoping it would calm his beating heart, all the while cursing Jefferson in his head. Jefferson licked his hand and then reached down again making Hamilton's cock slick.

"Please, stop," Hamilton pleaded. Jefferson looked down on him with mischievous and hungry eyes and Hamilton looked away, not being able to bear the look. Jefferson took his own cock and covered the two with his hand and then rubbed them. Hamilton convulsed and then exhaled, writhing beneath Jefferson's iron grip.

"Damn you," Hamilton seethed, more turned on now. "I really hate you."

"I know," Jefferson crooned, leaning down to cover Hamilton's mouth with his own, forcing his tongue into Hamilton's mouth.

Jefferson sped up the pace of his hand between them and Hamilton's hips rose to meet his hand. Hamilton's mouth returned the kiss now, hungrily. Jefferson continued with a concentrated effort and Hamilton wrapped his arms around Jefferson's neck and back, rising to meet him with every movement. Hamilton gripped harder and then shook, letting out a grunt as Jefferson closed his eyes and yelled out as he climaxed. Hot liquid shot out, covering each of their chests.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, Hamilton pushed Jefferson off of him roughly. He wiped the thick fluid from his chest with a hand and smeared it on an untouched part of Jefferson's upper torso, much to Jefferson's laughter.

"You disgust me," Hamilton spat out.

Jefferson kept laughing and then said, "Admit it, you can't stop fantasizing about me fucking you. I turn you on. You want me to dominate you. You long for an older man to use you for his pleasure. That's why you're so subservient to daddy Washington. You're hoping that one of these days he'll take pity on you and feed you his cock." Jefferson poked Hamilton hard in the forehead with one finger.

Hamilton looked furious and didn't reply. He gathered his clothes quickly, putting them on while glaring at Jefferson. He turned and then left the room in a huff as Jefferson blew a kiss after him.

********************

Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette rapped at the door. He had just returned from his tour of the South and went straight away to see his old friend. Alexander Hamilton answered the door wearily, peering out over small rimmed glasses, his hair unkempt and his shirt partially undone. The Marquis was immaculate and splendid, carrying a cane and wearing a tricorn hat and feather as well as long riding boots and a leather cloak. When Alexander saw him he broke out into a smile and pushed his glasses up, the edge of his hand clearly smudged with ink. Lafayette burst out with a, "Mon ami!" and swooped Hamilton up in a hug. Both of the men laughed and grasped each other, patting each other excitedly.

"I'm so glad you've returned!" Hamilton said.

"Oui, but now I shall return to France shortly, I'm afraid," Lafayette replied somberly.

Hamilton sighed and shooed Lafayette inside and then closed the door.

"You're looking very, shall I say, studious?" Lafayette joked.

"As always," Hamilton gave a weak smile as Lafayette clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hmm, so serious Hammy, put down the quill and attend to your old friend. Oui?"

"You must be so thirsty after your journey, let me get you something to drink." Hamilton disappeared in the kitchen, leaving Lafayette to set down his accouterments in the hallway.

Hamilton came back into the hall and handed the Marquis a glass with ice in it.

"We still have ice on the block from the winter," Hamilton stated. Lafayette took a sip and puckered his lips. "Hammy, what is zis? Zis is no real drink." Lafayette shoved the glass back into Hamilton's hands, which made him laugh. "Get me something befitting my station."

"Hmmm, you're a tough man to please," Hamilton smiled and winked and then walked back to the kitchen with the glass in hand. Lafayette meandered into the foyer and Hamilton returned a short time later with a bottle of brandy and two glasses. He held them up for Lafayette to see and said, "Let's go into the back, shall we?"

The two men walked through the house and through the back door into the small garden. Hamilton walked over to a stone bench underneath the sun and sat down, patting the area next to him for Lafayette to sit. Lafayette joined him and Hamilton put the bottle between the two of them after pouring generously in both glasses.

"To friendship," Lafayette said seriously, raising his glass. Hamilton raised his own glass, that usual twinkle in his eye missing. Lafayette drank a sip, looking over Hamilton with a concerned eye. Hamilton drank and looked away into the distance, fidgeting with the ring on his other hand. There was silence between them for some time as they drank the rest of their glasses. Lafayette tried to make eye contact with Hamilton, but he seemed lost in thought. He looked over his friend, slouched, tired looking, and nervous; this wasn't like him. Lafayette put a hand on Hamilton's shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice.

Their glasses drained, Lafayette picked up the bottle and poured more for the both of them. "Are you feeling alright? About... what happened last time?" Lafayette ventured.

"Huh... what?" Hamilton looked over at Lafayette as if hearing him for the first time. "Oh." Realization dawned on him. "Sure." He shrugged, only giving cryptic one words responses. Lafayette gave him a questioning look and slumped, looking dejected.

They continued drinking in silence, both men looking somber and reserved. Lafayette looked away brushing at his face and continued to drink, the alcohol burned in his stomach and drowned the feelings deep inside of him. When he looked back at Hamilton, he thought about how beautiful he looked with the way the sun shone off of his hair and sighed.

"Hammy, what's wrong?" Lafayette's head was bowed when he asked this.

Hamilton looked back and saw his friend slumped over and felt even sadder.

"Laf..." Hamilton sighed too and Lafayette looked up. Their eyes met, sadness tinging each of their countenances and Hamilton suddenly leaned over and grabbed Lafayette, hugging him close. Lafayette returned the hug, squeezing the other man tightly and inhaling his scent.

"Hammy..."

They broke and Hamilton looked up and said, "I've made such a mess of things, Laf. God, I don't know what to do."

Hamilton put his head in his hand with shame. Lafayette scooted closer, putting his drink down on the edge of the bench and removed the bottle and put it underneath them. He put his arm around Hamilton and hugged him close.

"Everything's a mess," Hamilton continued speaking. "I've done terrible things and I've pushed away those closest to me." Lafayette listened intently. "The worst part is, I've done it all to make this country better, but I don't actually know if what I'm doing is making anything better! It's such a struggle... I'm tired Laf."

"Sometimes you just need to take a break and look at things anew," Lafayette replied.

"If I let my guard down, that is when they will attack me."

Lafayette looked confused and said, "Who?"

"My enemies, Lafayette!" Hamilton seemed irritated. "You've been across the ocean this whole time so you wouldn't know what I've been dealing with."

"Bon, if you're anything like the man I remember, you can take care of it."

Hamilton sighed again. "No, I've made a terrible blunder. Honestly, revolution was the easiest part of this whole mess."

Lafayette pulled Hamilton in and placed a kiss on the side of his head near his temple. "Mon loup, tell me of your troubles so I may help."

Hamilton was silent for some moments, as if in deep thought and bit his lip. Finally he said, "Washington..."

"Oui, what about him?"

"I'm afraid we have become estranged."

"I hope this is not on the cause of me," Lafayette interjected.

"No, no, no," Hamilton said staunchly. "Well... maybe." Lafayette looked up, surprised.

"No! I mean to say, it is because of me." Hamilton looked sad and distressed. "I have made some... questionable choices and let's just say when he was there for me I pushed him away."

"Why?" Lafayette asked quietly.

"Because I was too proud to admit that I was in over my head. Because I was angry at him for asking me to do things on my own. Because I didn't want to admit I was weak."

Lafayette gave him a knowing look of empathy and sincerity. "Whatever it is, the General loves you Hammy. You were always his favorite. He loves you like his own Son. He wouldn't let your friendship go so easily."

"I know and that's part of the problem."

"Oh?"

"He coddles, he overprotects, he steps in when it isn't necessary."

"But you just said you needed help..." Lafayette trailed off, looking confused.

"Yes, but why must it be so obvious? Can't he just spare a little bit of my dignity? He doesn't make it easy. I feel such shame, Lafayette. Even more so when he's around."

"Bon, zis is about your pride then?"

Hamilton blew out hard, face turning red.

"Your pride is well known, Hammy." Lafayette wagged a finger at him.

"Laf, it's more than that." Hamilton looked ashamed. "There are some things that are just too hard to admit to anyone, even you."

Lafayette looked surprised and concerned. "Bon! Out with it, then."

"I made a deal with the devil, Laf. To get my bill passed." Hamilton looked away.

Lafayette noticed his embarrassment and waited for him to continue. Hamilton picked up his glass and then the bottle and filled it, taking a hefty swig before wiping away his mouth and setting them down again. He continued, "Thomas Jefferson and James Madison were the only two I had to convince. Well, Jefferson really considering Madison goes along with anything Jefferson does. Jefferson was very demanding and..." he paused, hesitant. "You already know of Jefferson's proclivities, what he's like." Lafayette nodded. "Jefferson demanded sexual favors in return for getting my bill passed, quid-pro-quo, but it didn't stop there."

Lafayette had a concerned look on his face and sat upright now. "You..." Lafayette trailed off and then decided to stay quiet.

Hamilton looked over at him, feeling ashamed. "I know, I know!"

"That man is an animal. The rumors of him in Paris were not... favorable," Lafayette said.

"I know, I know!" Hamilton said again, covering his face.

"Fils de pute," Lafayette muttered, looking angry.

"Oh come on, not you too," Hamilton replied with a touch of soreness. "See, this is what I'm talking about!"

Lafayette took a deep breath to calm himself and said, "Alright, mon Ami."

"As I way saying, Jefferson has..." Hamilton looked like he didn't know how to say it. "It has been more than once, multiple times, in fact."

Lafayette's face looked dark.

"This has been a game to him," Hamilton continued. "Washington found out and tried to intervene. I told him to go away, in rather harsh terms."

"But why?" Lafayette asked.

"Because it's embarrassing. Because I can't stand to see him when he looks at me that way. Because I kissed him and he..." Hamilton stopped and looked over at Lafayette, not knowing how to continue that sentence.

"Oh..." Lafayette said quietly. Hamilton looked away, thinking that Lafayette might be upset at him, not being able to bear that possibility.

"Hammy," Lafayette turned Hamilton's face towards him with a gentle hand, "I trust you and I would do anything for you. Très bien? Just tell me what to do and I will do it." 

"I don't want you to do anything," Hamilton replied softly.

Lafayette continued, "I know you, you love the General so you must make up with him. He is most likely hurting too."

"I know, but I don't know how," Hamilton replied putting his closest hand in Lafayette's and holding it.

"Just tell him the truth."

"But what if he turns me away?"

Lafayette shook his head. "If he loves you as much as I love you, then he won't."

Hamilton shook his head appreciatively, the pain starting to melt from his face, he leaned over and kissed Lafayette, the taste of brandy on their tongues.

"You're wonderful, you know that?" Hamilton laughed, relieved now. He brought up the back of each of Lafayette's hands to his lips and kissed them.

Lafayette smiled back and laughed, eyes warm, and he pulled Hamilton into an embrace. Hamilton rested his head on Lafayette's shoulder and chest and Lafayette bent his head down to take in that wonderful scent and then kissed that beautiful head of hair.

"I'm going to miss you in France, Hammy," Lafayette whispered.

"Can't you stay?" Hamilton asked, already knowing the answer, but wishing it was different this time.

"Hmm," Lafayette just replied. "Let's try to enjoy our last moments together."

At that moment, Eliza walked through the back door into the garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things should get interesting now.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza returns and Lafayette departs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I make any egregious errors in French, please let me know.
> 
> I've been spending some time going back to previous chapters and cleaning up some of the chapters grammar-wise and filling stuff out.

Alexander Hamilton stood up quickly, looking surprised and knocked the bottle of brandy off the bench onto the ground with his hasty movements. Lafayette got up slower than Hamilton and brushed off his coat. He bowed to Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton and said, "It's so nice to see you madam."

"Yes, it has been quite some time Mr. Lafayette." She extended her hand to him while still looking at her husband out of the corner of her eye and Lafayette took it, kissing the back lightly. 

"Eliza..." Hamilton trailed off and then as if prodded to action suddenly grasped her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. She did not look amused. 

"You didn't send word of your return?" Hamilton asked weakly. 

"No, I left on quite a short notice and had not the time to write ahead," she replied.

"You are looking so fine, madam," Lafayette interjected cheerfully. "It has been too long since I have seen your smiling face." Elizabeth smiled halfheartedly at this comment.

"Would you stay for dinner, Mr. Lafayette?" 

"Alas, but no, I must return as I have business with General Washington." Elizabeth smirked at his use of Washington's military rank and Hamilton shuffled anxiously. "And how was your trip upstate, madam?"

"It was quite fine," she replied. "And the children are well. Winter in the countryside is so much more quiet and relaxed than in the city."

"Your America is quite different than at home in Paris."

"It is so nice to see you again, Marquis." Eliza smiled warmly at him.

Lafayette bowed low to each of them and then pointedly said to Hamilton, "do see me off before I go." He gave Hamilton a wink and then entered the house to retrieve his hat, cane, and cloak.

Hamilton looked down at the grass and at his feet, kicking at tufts as he interlaced his fingers behind his back. Eliza stayed silent, watching him not able to look her in the eye. 

"You didn't tell me Lafayette would be visiting America."

"No, I just got word myself and he has been in Virginia most of this time."

The silence grew between them as Eliza watched him. Finally she said, "I saw the both of you."

Hamilton looked up at her face, expectantly searching for an idea of her mood. 

"Why were you kissing him?"

"You know how the French are..." Hamilton stopped when he saw that Eliza gave him a look that told him she saw right through his excuses.

She spoke, "Alexander..." She stopped to gather her thoughts. "I knew about John Laurens and what he meant to you." Hamilton's face dropped at the mention of that name, which confirmed what she way saying. "I know that during war people form bonds. Those men were your only family." She put a hand on his arm and he looked up. "Friendships formed in war are not like regular acquaintances made daily. They are made for life. Lafayette was your family... still is your family. I know you love him as he loves you." Hamilton looked appreciatively at her.

"You don't need to keep secrets from me," She tried to get through to him, taking his hand. He nodded and they looked each other in the eyes, her own pleading with him to let her in and his betraying sadness and shame.

"Eliza," he didn't know what to say other than that.

"You should go to your friend before he leaves," she said and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. Her own heart fell as she listened to his beating beneath his chest.

*******************

Hamilton found out where Lafayette's lodgings were and took a carriage to find the man for dinner. As the carriage rumbled on in the night, he found himself thinking back on recent events and sighed. He was playing a dangerous game, first with Jefferson, then with Washington, and now his wife. She was a kind, gentle spirit and he didn't wish to hurt her, especially after all she had done for him, all she had sacrificed for him. She was his backbone, his support when he needed someone to turn to. He wished he could tell her about everything that had happened to him, but he couldn't, because it would destroy her. When it came down to it, he was eternally weak to pleasures of the flesh. He had hoped marriage would cure him, or at least give him the visage of civility with married life, so there would be no question of his inclination towards other men. Part of him loved Eliza for sure as well as the pleasure that went along with her soft curves and delicate hands and mouth just as a part of him loved rolling around with Laurens and Lafayette during the war, something he couldn't seem to do away with even after they won their freedom. He also desperately longed for Washington's approval and along with that, he craved Washington's touch and his love. He wondered if Washington found his desires so base? Hamilton had certainly made them known and surely they disgusted the Commander, he convinced himself. Overall, he wished he wasn't this huge walking contradiction. He knew that one day this would all explode in his face. He just hoped that day wasn't anytime soon. He didn't know how much longer he could keep up this charade.

He was awoken from his dark thoughts as the carriage pulled up to the lodging. He departed the carriage and thanked the carriage driver, handing the man some money. The large house had a soft glow coming from the inside and he was eager to warm up near the fire place and sip some wine with his friend. He pulled his coat tighter to himself, trying to dispel the cold of the night and walked towards the door, encouraged at seeing Lafayette and gloomy about Lafayette's impending departure. 

He stopped at the door and raised a fist to rap at it, but then decided to surprise his friend, who was surely waiting for him. Hamilton opened the door and stepped inside. The large room had chairs and sofas lined up in a semi-circle in front of the fireplace with a table in the middle. Lafayette was sitting there with Washington and it looked like they had just finished a meal and had glasses raised as they talked. Hamilton froze and Lafayette looked back over his shoulder. Washington looked up from his relaxed spot on one of the large plush chairs, eyes boring into Hamilton, his face imperceptible. 

"I'm... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," Hamilton said frantically. 

Lafayette broke out into a huge grin and set his glass down, rather unceremoniously and hopped up from where he was sitting. He rushed over to Hamilton, who still had the door half open and closed it behind him. He then engulfed Hamilton in a hug. Lafayette's face was a nice shade of red and it was clear he was intoxicated from the smell of the wine on his breath. Lafayette laughed again, cheerful at seeing Hamilton.

Hamilton's heart pounded in his chest. Washington was there and he was staring hard, his expression cool. Why did they have to meet again now? And like this?

Lafayette was all over Hamilton. He took off Hamilton's coat for him quickly and then exclaimed, "Oh Hammy!" Lafayette pulled him in close and kissed him on each cheek and then on the forehead and then on the lips. Lafayette's over-exuberance always made Hamilton laugh and this time, no matter how he was feeling, he couldn't help it and he broke out in a chuckle. 

"Oh my, look at you!" Lafayette exclaimed, still grasping Hamilton, clearly drunk. "Mon Dieu, you look ravishing! I could eat you up, you know!" 

Hamilton turned a bright shade of pink, embarrassed at Lafayette's show in front of Washington. Lafayette pinched his cheeks and said, "So pretty!" This made Hamilton blush even harder.

"Lafayette, please..." Hamilton protested quietly.

"Oh, your wife is a lucky woman!" Lafayette got down on one knee and took Hamilton's hand in his own two and started kissing the back of his hand enthusiastically, invoking images in Hamilton's mind of the way he kissed Eliza's hand earlier that day.

"Lafayette..." Hamilton was so embarrassed he almost left the house immediately.

Lafayette got back up and enveloped Hamilton in his arms, kissing him again on the cheeks multiple times. Despite his mortification, Hamilton laughed, until he realized Washington was still watching them with a blank look.

Lafayette wrapped a lock of Hamilton's hair around his fingers and sighed. "I'm going to miss this. You must snip me a piece so I can treasure it from afar, non? Lafayette brought the hair to his nose and inhaled. 

"I should go, you're clearly busy," Hamilton said, attempting to back out of Lafayette's grip. 

"Nonsense!" Lafayette looked taken aback and kept a hold tightly. "We 'av just finished! You must stay!"

Lafayette pushed him towards the fire and tried to seat Hamilton on the sofa. Hamilton tried desperately not to look at Washington directly as his face continued to burn. Lafayette grabbed another glass and filled it sloppily, then pushed it into Hamilton's hand. 

"Maybe I should be the one to go," Washington spoke as he began to rise. 

"Non!" Lafayette wheeled on Washington and pointed a stiff finger in his direction. "Non, non, non!" He waved the finger at Washington, who froze and then sat back down, with a look of amazement at Lafayette's drunken audacity. 

"Ze three of us in one room again? What could be a more perfect goodbye on my last night?" The two others both looked up at Lafayette now, feeling uncomfortable. 

"Et, for my General," Lafayette started and then looked around for his wine glass and after spying it, picked it up in his hand for a toast. "My General," he continued, "I shall bring ze people freedom in France just as we 'av done here in America. For zat to 'appen, I plan to storm La Bastille and will not rest until I 'av delivered you ze key!"

Washington raised a glass, somewhat skeptical, but nodded in approval. Hamilton grinned and chuckled at Lafayette's show and at his over the top sincerity.

"To my two dearest friends," Lafayette turned to either of them with his glass raised. "I would not be here today without either of you. To my Hammy..." he turned and faced Hamilton. "For saving me zat night in the snow and bringing me back to life. For your bravery on ze battlefield! For your intrepid support. For your love and affection." Lafayette picked up Hamilton's hand and kissed it and Hamilton felt his eyes get misty as he grasped Lafayette's hand in his own. Washington swallowed a lump in his throat as he witnessed the tender moment between the two men, one of whom he loved dearly, the other who he had the fondest affection for.

"For my General," Lafayette turned to Washington now and got down on one knee. "My General, my leader, I would follow you anywhere and back! You led us to zis great victory and you continue to lead, to inspire. I will follow your example and will lead my people as you have led me. You 'av my love," Lafayette turned and motioned to Hamilton and said, "you 'av Alexander's love too." Hamilton looked up, surprised at being called out. He looked over tentatively at Washington, who was looking at him with deep sadness in his eyes. 

Lafayette got up and said, "Now we must drink!" And they each drained their glasses. Lafayette grabbed the pitcher and poured more for each of them.

"Now, to those of us who are not with us now," Lafayette continued toasting, "Hercules Mulligan." Washington and Hamilton echoed Mulligan's name and drank again.

"It is customary to say something for the dead as well," Lafayette continued on, somberly, "John Laurens."

Washington and Lafayette both looked over at Hamilton who sat forward on the sofa, his eyes dark and lit with the crackling wisps of the fire. Hamilton took a deep breath and looked down into his glass. "Would you like to start, Hammy?" Lafayette encouraged him. 

"John Laurens," Hamilton raised his glass, looking into the flames as his voice cracked a bit. "He was fiercely intelligent and young at heart. He was quick-witted and could match even me in debate. He was kind and proud and such a fighter." Hamilton felt tears drip down his face. "He had a smile that could... light up my heart whenever I looked at him. He had such beautiful, deep eyes. When he looked at me I felt like we were the only two people in the world." Hamilton covered his face. "He once asked me to count every freckle on his body just so he could show off," Hamilton laughed between choking back tears. "When he said I love you, I felt so loved." 

Lafayette sat down next to Hamilton and put an arm around him and kissed him on the side of the head.

"If he was alive now, he would do such great things in this world," Hamilton was crying and Washington felt a tear slide down his face as such a display of raw emotion and unconditional love. Lafayette pulled Hamilton closer into himself. 

"Hammy, Hammy, Hammy," Lafayette said in a soothing tone and wiped some tears from Hamilton's face.

"John Laurens," a strong voice came from Washington, cracked with emotion. The two others looked up and he had his glass raised toward them. They raised their own glasses back in his direction and drank somberly.

"Bon, bon, monsieurs, Laurens would not want for us to shed so many tears over him! He would want us to be happy and so 'appy we must be!" Lafayette said cheerfully, standing up. He proceeded to tell a French story about a girl named Blanchette with a golden hood and after that he launched into a bawdy tale of a whore and a peg-leg pirate. Hamilton groaned, but laughed, even if that one hit a little too close to home. Even Washington laughed at that last one and Hamilton was surprised that he cracked from his stoic nature, but if anyone could make Washington laugh, it was Lafayette, Hamilton thought. 

Every once in a while, Hamilton looked over at Washington out of the corner of his eye, sometimes Washington would dart a glance over at him, his eyes looked sad and it hurt Hamilton's heart to see him in such a way. Hamilton knew he was the cause of the pain. Washington looked away quickly after catching a glance from Hamilton, never holding his eyes.

"Gentlemen," Washington said, standing up, "you must forgive my absence, but I must be off."

"Non!" Lafayette started to exclaim again, but Washington gave him a look. 

"Mr. Lafayette, lead your country and do great things," Washington offered a hand but Lafayette tsked him and embraced the indomitable General. 

Washington nodded quickly Hamilton's way and he felt his heart speed up at the gesture. Washington was walking toward the door when Hamilton stood up, a look of concern, pain, and longing on his face and said, "Sir!"

Washington turned and looked back, his eyes betraying emotion too. Hamilton opened his mouth to speak, he had to say something, anything to get Washington to stay, but his mouth just hung there open, his eyes wide and begging.

Washington spoke, "Stay here with Lafayette, Alexander." Hamilton closed his open mouth and Washington lingered, but then turned and walked out the door after donning his hat, cloak, and cane.

Lafayette came up behind Hamilton and snaked his arms around his chest, pulling him in tightly. Lafayette placed a kiss on the back of his neck, in between his hair and it made him shiver a little. 

Lafayette let him go and then came around to Hamilton's front and took his hand. Looking in his eyes he said, "I know I could never replace what you and Laurens had, but just for tonight, let me be that for you."

"Oh, Laf..." Hamilton answered sincerely, shaking his head and giving Lafayette a heartfelt look.

Lafayette took Hamilton's face in his hands and kissed him deeply, the other man reciprocated.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter John Laurens and Marquis de Lafayette.

August 1777 - General George Washington's camp

Alexander Hamilton leaned back from his bench in the mess tent, trying to spy on the new boy across the way. The visiting Marquis de Lafayette was seated across from him and noticed his guide's distraction. The Marquis was a French aristocrat who was visiting Washington's camp, having been given an honorary commission by congress, and Washington had asked Hamilton to stay with the Frenchman while he was completing some duties. Hamilton thought the man a little annoying as he was too bubbly and overenthusiastic for his tastes. The Marquis seemed to be smitten with General Washington and payed no heed to the dreadful state of their camp, instead he acted like they were at Versailles. Hamilton knew the Marquis would soon tire of their dejected conditions. 

"See something you like?" The Marquis asked Hamilton, who had a field spoon hanging out of his mouth and who was leaned way back on the bench. The Marquis looked around and then over at where Hamilton's eyes were glued. He spotted the pretty boy with curly hair and freckles and looked back at Hamilton, giving a knowing grin.

"Oh, I see," the Marquis chuckled. "Monsieur Hamilton?" The Frenchman tried to get his guide's attention. He waved in the man's face and then felt sorely tempted to fling some food at the distracted Hamilton.

Hamilton looked back at the Marquis, a bit irritated now, and he came to rest where he should be on the bench. He leaned over and pulled the spoon from his mouth and dropped it to his tin. It made a loud clattering noise. 

"You never mentioned..." the Marquis began, giving Hamilton a look filled with charm and innuendo. 

"Should I have?" Hamilton asked dryly.

"Alors!" The Marquis righted himself, puffing out his already puffed chest. "I'm no stranger to love in trying times."

"Yes, I'm sure," Hamilton replied, unimpressed, glancing back over at the freckled boy.

The Marquis sighed and said, "He is Washington's new aide-de-camp with a French sounding name... et..." The Marquis thought a while, scratching his head. "Laurens, oui, that was it. His family were Huguenots."

"Hmmm," Hamilton mumbled. "My mother was a Huguenot."

"Ho!" The Marquis wryly smiled at Hamilton, hoping to catch his eye.

"Yes, well, let us be off," Hamilton clearly wished to divulge no more information and he grabbed his tin and stood up. The Marquis followed, brushing off his frills and making his way around the bench. Hamilton walked by the freckled boy who was eating alone at the front of the tent and cast a sidelong glance at him. 

Once outside, Hamilton waited for the Marquis to come out behind him, but he didn't see the man emerge from the tent. Hamilton tapped his foot and looked at the tent flaps, feeling annoyed that he had to chaperone the Frenchman around. He had better things to be doing and even on such a nice day, he wished to be inside finishing his letters. Hamilton spun around and looked at the state of their camp. It was deplorable and that was precisely why he wanted to be writing at this moment. He knew he could help secure better supplies and accommodations for everyone, if given a chance. Washington wash't picky, but he knew that something like this could likely affect morale. 

Hamilton was about to go back inside the tent to find the Marquis when he came bursting through the flaps with a certain freckled boy in tow. Hamilton's mouth dropped open as Lafayette brought him face to face with Hamilton. 

"Monsieur Laurens, this is Monsieur Hamilton. You two are on the same staff." The Marquis still had Laurens by the arm and said this rather matter-of-factly. Hamilton dropped into a low bow, still clearly stunned.

"A pleasure," Laurens smiled and offered his hand to the bowing man.

"Yes, of course," Hamilton straightened himself and took the palm of the affable boyish looking man in front of him.

"Messieurs, do show a Frenchman around, oui?"

 

************

 

Hamilton scribbled furiously on the parchment in front of him, trying not to think about that beautiful freckled face just across the room. He suddenly realized he had trailed off the paper and wrote on the table and he cursed under his breath. The freckled face looked up at him, having heard the curse in the near-silent room. Hamilton shrugged, embarrassed and Laurens raised a hand to his face, trying to suppress a laugh. His hand had been stained from all the writing and this left a smudge on his freckled skin. Hamilton suppressed his own laugh at the sight of the smudged face and General Washington looked up at the commotion.

"Something I should know about, gentlemen?" Washington asked. Hamilton shook his head quickly and dropped his eyes back to his paper, feeling like a school boy chastised. 

The three scribbled on in silence for some time until Washington stood up and announced his departure. "I have matter to take care of gentlemen." Washington donned his hat and took his cane and left the building.

Hamilton was acutely aware now of being alone in the room with the other man. The sound of quills scratching on parchment was the only sound between them. To Hamilton, the silence was deafening. 

Suddenly, one of the quills stopped. Laurens looked up curiously and saw Hamilton take a seat next to him, setting his ink pot and paper out on the bench. Hamilton looked over, eyes twinkling and he stuck a thumb in his mouth. Laurens was awash with confusion as Hamilton took the thumb out and brushed it across Laurens' cheek. Normally he would feel revolted at someone rubbing their saliva on him, but he was strangely turned on. He felt his face go red as the digit traced across his face rather studiously. Laurens realized his mouth had been agape and he closed it, mesmerized by those eyes across from him. Hamilton took the finger away from Laurens' face and kept it in the air for Laurens to see. It was black with smudged ink. Laurens felt even more embarrassed that he had gone on looking like that for some while. He scanned his own two hands and saw that one of them was spotted black with ink and knew of the culprit. 

Hamilton chuckled and went back to his writing. Laurens couldn't get the feeling of Hamilton's hand on his face out of his mind and he tried to continue his work, but sitting next to Hamilton it seemed near impossible. The other aide-de-camp radiated warmth and there was also some sort of electricity in the air between their bodies that Laurens couldn't ignore. The distraction was becoming too much.

"I can't work like this," Laurens growled and stood up, grabbing his paper, quill, and ink pot and moved to another table. Hamilton looked surprised and then dejectedly went back to his own writing.

 

**********

 

Laurens had got up and left the house some time later and feeling down, Hamilton kept on working, the only thing he knew how to do to keep his mind from making himself crazy with negative thoughts. 

A while later, Lafayette had come inside, looking for Hamilton.

"Monsieur, may I steal you for a bit?" He asked.

"Why?" Hamilton asked, in a depressed tone.

"I need someone to drink with," the Marquis stated plainly.

"I'm busy, Lafayette." Hamilton had started calling the Marquis just "Lafayette" now, this familiarity was common in the upper echelons of command.

"Tsk, tsk," Lafayette chided. "Working so much will kill you."

Lafayette came up and straddled the bench Hamilton was sitting on and watched Hamilton working away intently.

Hamilton stopped and rounded on Lafayette and said, "Really?" at the man's audacity. 

Lafayette looked taken aback and scoffed. "Oui."

"Go away," Hamilton said halfheartedly. 

Lafayette leaned over closer to Hamilton and stated, "Non."

Hamilton slammed the quill down on the table and covered his face with his hands, trying to gain composure. 

"Alright," Hamilton agreed. "Let us go then." Lafayette grinned at his triumph.

The two men arose and Hamilton tucked away his papers, closed his ink pot and stashed the quill. They exited into the night, a lantern at the door lighting the path. There were various lights from around the camp and the Marquis took Hamilton by the arm and led him down the road into the nearby town. The moon was full so a lantern was not needed for the walk. They also didn't need horses as the tavern was close by. 

Lafayette started to gush about General Washington as they ambled down the path, arm in arm. Hamilton was vaguely aware of a light perfume coming off of Lafayette and wondered absentmindedly if all French wore perfume into battle? Hamilton also thought that Lafayette was way too overdressed for being in the field. Part of him had to admit that Lafayette's eccentricities were starting to become endearing.

Lafayette gushed on about Washington until Hamilton piped up, "You really do think quite highly of him."

"Don't you, mon Ami?" Lafayette seemed taken aback. 

"Yes, of course," Hamilton relented. "He's..." not knowing how to say it, Hamilton paused. "He's quite the leader."

"More than that!" Lafayette interjected. "Such a man only comes along once in a blue moon. He's a leader to his men, a father to those under him, and a true friend. The only man to lead us to glory! The only man to change the fate of so many and to change the fate of a nation!" Lafayette sighed, clearly smitten.

"Wow," Hamilton said, clearly amazed. "Have you... told the General how you feel?"

"Oui, Monsieur!" 

"And... what did he say?" Hamilton prodded, clearly interested now. 

"He thanked me profusely, Monsieur, and has confided in me greatly! In truth, we have become such bosom friends and confidants. I hope to be appointed to command by such a great man. "

"Yes, don't we all," Hamilton lamented.

The two continued on down the moonlit road until they reached the pub. It was a warm night and crickets chirped and the stars illuminated the night sky. The Marquis rambled on for quite some time in his exuberant manner and Hamilton mostly listened to the chatter, his mind distracted by morose thoughts of the spurning earlier that day. 

Once inside the warm and raucous room, they ordered tall mugs and sat on a bench. Lafayette could tell Hamilton was feeling low and asked him, "Bon, out with it then. What is it?"

Hamilton sighed and took a big gulp of ale.

"It's that Laurens, is it not?" The Marquis had a way of knowing things he shouldn't, that Hamilton was assured of. "I can tell the face of a man sick with love," he continued in his thick French accent.

"No!" Hamilton lied, face red. 

"Oui," Lafayette replied. "I can tell by the way you look at him."

"Is it really that obvious?" Hamilton slumped.

"Oui," Lafayette seemed empathetic and he reached out and patted Hamilton on the arm, consoling him. 

"Just fantastic." Hamilton drunk again.

"You must give him time, non? He will come around." Lafayette sipped his ale in comparison.

"Wise words," Hamilton said sarcastically.

"Ça suffit!" Lafayette tsk'ed. Hamilton looked up, understanding the French perfectly. "I can see why you like him, he is a pretty one," Lafayette conceded. "Forget about him for now, tonight we drink," Lafayette prompted, holding up his mug. Hamilton gave him a half smile and returned the toast and they drank. He knew Lafayette was right, he should forget about it for now. He had made a move and had been rejected, so he should stop sulking about and just try to enjoy quiet nights like this, while he still had a chance.

"You look like an Englishman, but your accent is something else," Lafayette squinted at him, as if scrutinizing. Hamilton nodded, not responding and feeling uncomfortable that Lafayette was suddenly prying into his background.

"You said your mother was Huguenot," Lafayette circled Hamilton with his finger as if trying to pinpoint something. Hamilton just grinned back, trying to mask his uneasiness.

"Part," Hamilton replied.

"Ô!" Lafayette smiled and rested his chin on his hand. "So we have some blood in common. But, you're rather a difficult one."

Hamilton leaned back against the wooden wall and continued to drink. He had to admit, Lafayette was a good drinking partner. The man loved to talk and his penchant for dirty jokes made the night all that more interesting. In the short time he had known Lafayette, Hamilton felt himself warming up to the Frenchman quite a bit. Lafayette quickly made Hamilton forget about why he was depressed with his jokes and his vivacious attitude. Hamilton drank way more ale than he intended to and at some point, he realized just how under the table he was.

"Oh God..." Hamilton groaned, his head swirling. Lafayette laughed at him and asked, "When is a man like you going to get a wife? With such a handsome face, many dames could not resist."

Was Lafayette hitting on him? Hamilton laughed and said, "All in good time. And you Monsieur?" Hamilton raised an eyebrow.

"O, but I am already a married man, Monsieur." Lafayette replied, grinning knowingly. Hamilton burst out in laughter. He had no idea why he found the image so funny. "Every man must have a good woman by his side," Lafayette continued.

"Of course you are," Hamilton acquiesced. 

"Don't mistake me, that does not mean I have no time for the simple pleasures in life." Lafayette's eyes twinkled and he casually rested his palm on the back of Hamilton's outstretched hand.

Hamilton took a deep breath, suddenly trying to think of what the level of attraction to Lafayette was. He supposed it was enough, and growing.

"Shall we retire?" Lafayette's eyes were still twinkling.

"Yes," Hamilton agreed and finished off his mug. The Marquis slapped some coins down on the table, paying for their entire night of drinking.

The men stumbled out of the pub and started off in the direction of the camp again. Lafayette grabbed Hamilton's arm and pulled him close, hooking their arms in together. They both attempted to walk in a straight line and failed. They started to laugh when they careened off the path together.

"You must tell him how you feel," Lafayette slurred. "Or else you will be sorry."

Hamilton sighed and agreed. He had suddenly remembered that the three of them were sharing one room, as the lodgings were quite tight for officers. They should be happy the three of them had lodgings at all compared to the soldiers sleeping in tents. 

"Take it from me," Lafayette continued saying, "Never pass up an opportunity to express love and affection."

"Really?" Hamilton asked.

The two of them stumbled to the grass on the side of the road, laughing. They went down in a tumble and Lafayette was on top of Hamilton kissing him now. Hamilton reciprocated greedily, all of his lust and passion for Laurens now channeled into this new encounter. The two rolled on the grass, hands all over each other and mouths selfishly searching and sucking at lips and skin. 

"I've heard about you," Lafayette whispered.

"Oh?" Hamilton replied naughtily.

Lafayette rubbed his hand over the hardness in Hamilton's pants and he groaned, holding Lafayette tighter. They resumed kissing, the moonlight the only source of light for their endeavors. 

"You're good at this," Hamilton admitted, enjoying the soft lips on his own then realizing where they were, "I don't even want to think about all the insects on us right now."

Lafayette laughed and Hamilton inhaled the scent of Lafayette's French perfume, rather enjoying it now.

"Look, when we get back, you have to say something to him," Lafayette said drunkenly.

"Oh god, I'm so drunk, I'd just make a fool of myself."

"You, a fool? Jamais."

"Do you realize we're all sleeping in the same room?" Hamilton hissed as if it were a secret.

"Bien," Lafayette growled nipping at Hamilton's ear and pinning his arms to the grass, making Hamilton moan.

Hamilton suddenly desperate felt around Lafayette's breeches, trying to slip a hand in. 

"What if someone sees us? We're right on the road," Lafayette asked.

"Who cares?" Hamilton insisted and finally slipped his hand in and grasped Lafayette's hard cock, which quieted his questions.

Hamilton moved his fingers deftly and Lafayette moaned with pleasure, closing his eyes. Hamilton was aware of the pleased look on Lafayette's face under the moonlight and realized that he really liked the way that looked. He kissed at Lafayette's lips and then neck as Lafayette writhed. Lafayette started groaning and muttering in French as Hamilton quickened the pace and then he suddenly cried out and Hamilton felt Lafayette's cock pulse in his hand and spew out thick liquid. Hamilton brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked the seed off of them. Lafayette watched him with a dizzy but satisfied look on his face and then exhaled loudly. 

Lafayette pushed Hamilton down to the grass and undid the buttons and laces on his breeches, drawing out Hamilton's own hard cock. 

"Are you sure?" Hamilton asked tentatively as Lafayette lowered his mouth to the member.

"Oui," Lafayette said forcefully, pushing Hamilton down again.

Lafayette wrapped his lips around Hamilton's cock and Hamilton was astonished with the sudden pleasure. Hamilton dug his hands into the grass, fingernails finding dirt and he gasped. Holy hell, Lafayette was good at this, he thought deliriously and squirmed in the moonlight. Lafayette licked up, down, and around and Hamilton could barely take it. He looked down at Lafayette's face, eyes closed and enjoying the act and he ran his hand through Lafayette's hair, grasping at the strands and raising his hips to meet Lafayette's sweet mouth. He pulled Lafayette's head down and then came hard, body shaking and shivering in the night air as the sweat dripped off of him. Lafayette sucked up every last drop of seed as Hamilton twitched and firmly dug his hand into the back of Lafayette's head. 

Lafayette made a pleased sound as he raised his head and looked up at Hamilton's ecstatic expression. Hamilton went limp as Lafayette buttoned his pants back up.

"What now?" Hamilton finally asked.

"Like I said, go to Laurens and tell him how you feel," Lafayette replied, sitting up. "Maybe I'll do the same with Washington."

"Washington? Are you kidding me?" Hamilton sat up gawking.

Lafayette looked up at Hamilton over his shoulder and replied with a sultry, "Oui."

"You have got to be kidding me... he's twice your age!" Hamilton protested. "Besides, he's never going to go for that!"

"Why are you so sure?" Lafayette asked and continued to smile.

"I don't know," Hamilton continued to protest, "he's just so upright and stuffy!"

"What if he already has?" Lafayette lowered his voice.

"What?!" Hamilton's mouth dropped, incredulous.

"The first night we met in Philadelphia, after dinner," Lafayette said this with an amorous air about him that made Hamilton's loins tingle. He swallowed hard, his head spinning. 

"I had no idea," Hamilton whispered.

Lafayette grinned and leaned over, kissing Hamilton on his sweaty neck.

"I'm surprised he hasn't bedded you yet," Lafayette said. "I mean, look at you, his pretty aide-de-camp who is at his every beck and call."

"He wouldn't, trust me," Hamilton maintained. 

"He must think of you though, at night, by himself," Lafayette implied.

"I really don't think he would do that," Hamilton said reluctantly, mind racing. 

"If you say so," Lafayette replied as if he knew more information than he was letting onto.

He helped Hamilton stand and brushed the grass and dirt off of his back. "You might have to carry me back," Hamilton said wobbling. 

Lafayette wrapped and arm around his waist and they made their way out of the treeline and back onto the road. Hamilton tried not to think about what Lafayette was implying about Washington and instead thought about Laurens waiting for him back at camp. Lafayette cracked a bawdy joke and Hamilton groaned and laughed as they continued to walk with the sound of crickets echoing around them. 

They entered camp sometime later, the sounds having died down from earlier and fewer lights shining than before. Thankfully a lamp still burned over the front of the house that Washington and his aide-de-camps stayed in.

"We must be quiet," Hamilton warned Lafayette as they opened the door and crept upstairs.

"It's hot," Lafayette complained and Hamilton shushed him.

Hamilton tried the doorknob slowly and tried to open it quietly, but Lafayette pinched his rear end and instead they both fell into the room, giggling loudly. Laurens bolted up from the pallet there on the floor, looking scared and surprised.

"It's alright," Hamilton whispered, waving at Laurens, still a little drunk.

Laurens' eyes were wide and then he slowly began to look annoyed at having been woken and fell back into the bed. Hamilton and Lafayette peeled off some clothes until they were in their blouses and trousers and then Hamilton fell into bed next to Laurens and Lafayette fell on the other side of him.

"Are you serious?" Laurens hissed.

"Of course," Hamilton pouted and Lafayette giggled next to him.

"You two smell like a brewery," Laurens stated, irritated. 

"I'm sorry," Hamilton said sincerely.

"Well, we should try to sleep," Laurens replied, less harshly now.

"Like this?" Hamilton asked as he wrapped his arm around Laurens and inched toward his back. Laurens was shocked for a moment to feel Hamilton pressed up behind him, his arm wrapped around his chest.

"Alexander..." Laurens began to say and then stopped.

"Yes, John?" Hamilton murmured in his ear. The low tone and air over his ear made Laurens shiver.

"You're cold," Hamilton stated, pulling Laurens in closer and resting his face against the back of his neck.

Laurens tensed at the unexpected physical contact, but then slowly felt himself relaxing. Hamilton's breathing was slow and pleasing and he felt his own breath matching the same rhythm. Laurens brought his hand to rest on Hamilton's and squeezed it. This was rather unconventional, he admitted to himself, but it also felt nice. Hamilton also made him feel excited in ways he couldn't explain. He felt himself blushing when he caught Hamilton's eye and he felt inexplicably nervous around the other man, often to the point of embarrassment. Sometimes it was all he could do but run off at moments like this, but now Hamilton wouldn't let him run. He had his arm around him and it was holding him close and tight. His heart was beating fast, oh so fast, he wondered if Hamilton could feel it? Then there was the slow burn in his loins from the contact, the burn that spread out to envelop his entire body. He commanded his breathing to steady and tried to sleep. 

"It's nothing," Laurens murmured.

Behind Hamilton, the Marquis de Lafayette looked at the back of Hamilton's head and his ragged and unkempt ponytail. Lafayette smiled, feeling a tinge of sadness as he looked at the pair in front of him. Lafayette scooted close to Hamilton, putting his arm around the waist of the sleeping man and tried to hold Hamilton the way Hamilton held Laurens.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is joined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daveed Diggs retweeted me and I'm still coming down off that high.

Pennsylvania, September - 1777

 

John Laurens splashed the cool running water on his face from the creek below. Alexander Hamilton and the Marquis de Lafayette sat on the bank, boots cluttered together on the shore, as they dipped their feet into the water. Hamilton looked over at Laurens, who was running his hands over his face. He dropped his hands and for a moment and the water shone off of him as he sat there with his eyes closed and face upturned towards the sun. Hamilton was in awe. Laurens' freckles were beautifully accentuated by the rays of sun and his lips looked pink and plump as he flicked his tongue out to lick off the water on his mouth. Hamilton felt his breath catch. Lafayette watched Hamilton from the corner of his eye.

"General Howe has ships in Chesapeake Bay at this very moment," Lafayette said, snapping Hamilton out of his trance.

Hamilton swished his feet around in the current, suddenly aware of being noticed.

"What is your position here exactly, Marquis?" Hamilton asked.

"Same as you." Lafayette reclined. "Waiting for Washington to grant me a command."

"You came all the way from France for that?"

"Did you not also travel far from home?"

The Marquis had hit a sore spot with Hamilton and he hastily said, "My home is here."

"That's not what I've heard. Je sais que tu êtes parle couramment le français."

Hamilton crossed his arms in front of him and stared glumly into the water. Laurens was watching both of them now.

"I want you to know," Lafayette continued, "that we're in this together." Lafayette clapped a hand on Hamilton's arm in solidarity, but he just sat there, staring into the current.

A runner came up behind the three men and announced, "Marquis Lafayette! General Washington would like to see you." Lafayette rose and picked up his leather boots and socks, slipping them on his feet while still wet. Hamilton stayed put on the bank and stared into the water.

"Messieurs, Adieu," Lafayette called out behind him as he followed the messenger.

Hamilton and Laurens sat in silence for some moment until Laurens piped up, "Everything alright with you? I know Lafayette can be an outspoken man..." Laurens trailed off; he didn't know what to say.

"You never told me where you were from, Ham," Laurens stated. Hamilton stayed silent until Laurens splashed a cupped hand of water at him. Hamilton looked over angrily, until he saw the smile on John's face and softened.

"I'm from the Caribbean, John." It looked like it took a lot for Hamilton to admit this. Laurens shrugged and smiled, eyes twinkling.

"There's no shame in that," Laurens admitted.

"I'm poor John; I had nothing growing up and I still have nothing." Hamilton wanted to impart the direness of the situation onto his friend.

"My father is a wealthy man from South Carolina and I'm to inherit hundreds of slaves, yet, here we are, together." Laurens emphasized the last word. "I'm not above you. If we fight well, we can make something of ourselves, something of our own. We will create our own legacy and reject the legacy handed down by those who came before us.

Hamilton loved the self-determination in his friend. It is what drew him to the youthful looking young man with freckles in the first place.

"I think the Marquis likes you," Laurens said, changing the subject.

"I know," Hamilton replied flatly.

"And do you... like him?" Laurens asked tentatively, picking at a pine needle in a thick clump of brown needles blanketing the embankment.

"I'm not interested in him, John." Hamilton's deep eyes bore into Laurens and he suddenly felt a shiver, despite the heat, noticing the coldness of the water for the first time.

"Oh," Laurens replied, looking away and blushing. He felt a handful of water hit him and looked back at Hamilton's mischievously smiling face. Laurens jumped up and crouched on his feet now. He dipped a hand into the shallows and sent a wave of water back at Hamilton. The torrent sprayed across Hamilton's body, drenching his shirt and face. He jumped up on his feet now too and threw a wave at Laurens with some force. Laurens started to laugh, but instead got a mouthful of water. He choked and sputtered and then yielded.

"No more!" Laurens waved his arms frantically in front of him. Hamilton looked smug.

The two men laughed until the cheerful sounds died down. Looking rather serious now, Hamilton said, "Don't die on me, John." Lauren snorted, not realizing the seriousness of the situation. "Me, die? Really?" Laurens scoffed. Hamilton smiled unconvinced.

"We have so much to do, Ham. With you by my side, we're nigh unstoppable." Laurens gave that charming smile that made Hamilton want to melt into a puddle. He wished he felt confident in Laurens' assertions, but he couldn't stop the feeling of impending dread inside of him.

As the two men walked back towards the camp, they came upon Lafayette saddled on a horse.

"Where to, Marquis?" Hamilton asked, feeling a bit ashamed at his earlier behavior.

"I leave on the orders of our great leader; I will return to rejoin the troops shortly." The horse pawed at the ground and trotted around in a circle. "Until then." Lafayette tipped his hat. He looked glorious astride the stallion with a feather in his hat, tassels on his shoulders, and buttons so shiny they would be mistaken by King Midas for gold. Lafayette also carried a saber on his belt and his leather boots reflected the sun in their blackness. Hamilton felt himself smiling up at the striking figure and for a moment Laurens looked over and saw something in Hamilton's eyes. Lafayette kicked the flanks of his horse and sped off into the trees.

Laurens and Hamilton pushed their way through the flap of Washington's command tent.

"We move, gentlemen," Washington ordered his inner circle after apprising them of the situation. "Scouts have reported General Howe's men move north to Philadelphia. We aim to stop them. Hamilton, Laurens, prepare the reports immediately."

The troops outside packed up the camp and loaded all necessary supplies onto the carts and horses. Others carried a heavy load by back. Laurens and Hamilton scrambled to complete their report to congress while everything was being packed up before them. Finally, Hamilton sealed his parchment with Washington's seal and grabbed his kit, throwing it on the back of a nearby supply cart. The column of men moved out and Hamilton and Laurens trailed beside the carts on horseback, while Washington rode through the column on his white stallion, inspecting.

The march was arduous and progress was slow going. Hamilton's and Lauren's horses both seemed to tire quickly from the heat and the mud. It was doubtless much worse for the men. Hamilton glanced over at his friend, who seemed so solemn in times like these. There was always the heavy anticipation of battle lingering about them in the air. Hamilton sweated and felt the skin beneath his collar get sticky and irritated. He wiped his face, his fair skin burning under the heat and he pulled his hat low, hoping to cover the bridge of his nose. Laurens looked over at him often throughout the march, offering a smile or a glance that seemed to get him through the misery he was in. Yes, together they could do this, Hamilton resolved.

After some forward skirmishes by the front of the column, Washington ordered them to entrench behind Brandywine Creek. Hamilton collapsed on the grass, exhausted. Washington bade them sleep before the impending battle. Laurens lay beside Hamilton on the grass, also exhausted, using his pack to rest his head against. He looked over at Hamilton and wondered if he was still awake.

"Ham," Laurens called out softly.

"Hmm?"

"Are you nervous?" Laurens asked.

"I'm tired," Hamilton replied and then realizing how dismissive that sounded added, "and nervous."

Laurens sighed, looking up at the sky and Hamilton picked up his head to see if anything was the matter.

"You're a good fighter," Hamilton reminded Laurens, "and besides, we're in the rear." Hamilton didn't like to remind himself of that. He wished he was in the front, leading like he was destined to. He suddenly thought of Lafayette who had galloped off in magnificent fashion on his horse and wondered what he was getting himself up to. Maybe this was his day for command? The thought made Hamilton feel depressed and resentful.

Hamilton rolled over until his head was on Lauren's stomach. Hamilton liked the rising and falling feeling as they both looked up at the sky, trying to sleep, fitfully.

The men awoke some short time later with the sound of yells and gunshots ringing out. Hamilton jumped up, eyes wide and heart beating fast.

"The British here, how?" Laurens asked, eyes also wide. "Behind us?"

The camp was in chaos, men scrambled to form ranks amidst the hail of bullets. Hamilton felt a slug whiz by his ear and he crouched low in the grass, pulling Laurens down with him. Hamilton scrambled and dug around in his pack, finding his pistol. Laurens was frozen, until he saw Hamilton and spurred himself into action and also pulled out his pistol. Hamilton's mouth tore at the gunpowder pouch and he hastily dropped the grains down his barrel and then stuffed it with the plug from his pistol kit. Laurens had loaded his pistol almost as quickly and they both aimed at the closest Red Coats they could see and then let their shots ring out in unison. From around them, they heard Washington's command. His voice was like a trumpet sounding over the battlefield and soon three divisions had formed in front of Laurens and Hamilton. They kept loading their guns and firing, until they did not have a safe shot to do so.

Grabbing their packs, they scrambled to find Washington who was the portrait of authority and composure atop his horse.

"Send a message," Washington said when he saw Hamilton who then went to find his portable writing kit among the supplies.

Retreating to a mill, they set up a hasty command center where Hamilton and Laurens tore through page after page and entire sticks of hot wax. At some point, Hamilton burned his finger, but didn't even notice the pain, only a mild throbbing that he shoved to the back of his mind. He looked over at Laurens, hunched over his ink pot and quill and was thankful that he was alive.

After hours and hours of battle, a runner screamed out, "The Hessians, they're breaking through!"

Washington turned toward Laurens and looked him dead in the eye. "Go to Nathaniel Greene and tell him to cover our retreat. I need you to do this. Go now!" Washington barked his order and Hamilton's blood froze in his veins. Oh God no! Hamilton's hand shook and he dropped his quill. He watched as if in slow motion as it fell to the ground and clattered on the stones, ink spraying everywhere. Laurens looked at him with set determination on his face and clamped a hand down on his shoulder, squeezing hard. Then he was out the door and grabbing a horse. Laurens was gone.

Washington turned to Lafayette, who had returned an hour ago and said, "You, go to General Sullivan, apprise him of the situation immediately." Lafayette gave a small flourish of his hand, pride beaming from his face as he bowed low to his general and then he too was off. Hamilton watched him go, envy gnawing at his stomach like a hunger.

"Sound the retreat!" The General's voice rang out clear amidst the screams and savagery of battle. "Hamilton," Washington turned to address him directly and his heart leapt with hopes of glory, "you're coming with me."

Outside, Hamilton affixed his pack to his horse as he saw a stream of bright blue coats belonging to the Hessians coming over the hill. He barely climbed into the saddle when Washington came up aside him and smacked Hamilton's horse hard with his riding crop. The horse jolted ahead with Washington following behind. All around them the men scrambled with their gear and long muskets, forming into columns to move and then abandoning their discipline and running at the sight of the professional soldiers behind them.

Hamilton turned briefly and saw Nathaniel Greene's division coming up over the hill at the Hessian's flank. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had done it. Lauren's had done it. His relief was overtaken with sadness as he witnessed the spectacle of Nathaniel Greene atop that hill. That should be him up there. For a brief second he hated Washington for denying him everything he had been born for. This moment, everything was leading up to this. He was not destined to be a follower. He choked back bitter tears and continued on with the weary column, hoping that if not him, Laurens could at least taste the joys of command. His disdain for Washington settled into a low sear, burning in the pit of his stomach.

General Casmir Pulaski rode up to Washington and Hamilton could hear Washington ordering the Polish general to defend their rear, as the men were slow and could be picked off easily from behind. As they continued trudging along, Pulaski's division broke off and marched to the back of their army. Hamilton watched the faces of the men who were sent off to die and wondered what they might be thinking and feeling in this moment. He had stared death in the face so many times up until this point that he knew the answer.

A runner came again with a message for Washington, informing them that Lafayette was leading a charge of Thomas Conway's men to secure the retreat and to possibly stop the British march to Philadelphia. Washington nodded solemnly, the sweat beading at his brow. Hamilton looked over and for a moment he thought he saw George Washington falter, but then a second later, the look was gone and Washington was again the hard, stony general that Hamilton knew.

They marched in retreat through the rest of the day and into the night, until Hamilton felt like he was going to fall off his horse. Every single inch of his body ached and his mouth dried out and stuck together. Once they made camp, Hamilton pushed away the overwhelming exhaustion that was threatening to overtake him at any moment. He had to find Laurens and confirm that he was alright.

The men around him looked utterly exhausted as he pushed his way through the crowds, thirsty for a drink and legs weak like rubber, but he had to find Laurens. A medical cart rolled up and the men unloaded a body from it on a stretcher and then carried the stretcher into a nearby hospital tent. Hamilton froze, his legs no longer able to work. He fell against a tree and after regaining his composure, straightened himself, legs wobbly. His heart pounded and he could hear it as it echoed in his head and the blood coursed through his temples.

He walked stiffly towards the tent and then threw open the flaps, frightened at what he would find inside. On a cot was the Marquis de Lafayette, eyes closed and looking pale. His trousers were drenched with blood and a crude field dressing had been applied to his leg.

"No..." Hamilton felt himself saying. This wasn't Laurens but... but what?

He stumbled forward until he was by Lafayette's side and shook him. "Wake up!" He cried, not realizing or caring that he was likely doing more harm than good. The Marquis lay, unmoving. Hamilton dropped his face to Lafayette's chest, suddenly overcome with guilt, pain, fear, and exhaustion. He cried, wrapping his arms around the quiet bloodied figure.

"Not like this, please, no," Hamilton begged.

The body moved beneath him and Lafayette opened his eyes. Hamilton bolted up, looking for a sign of life on the fatigued face.

"It's a shallow wound, Hammy," Lafayette said weakly, eyes glazed over. Hamilton wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. He took Lafayette's hand and put it to his lips and kissed it multiple times.

"There's so much blood; I'm going to get the medic," Hamilton replied, pausing and then he threw his arms around Lafayette again. "We're alive because of you, you know that? You magnificent French bastard." Hamilton felt the rise and fall of Lafayette's chest beneath him and was so thankful in that moment that he was alive.

Hamilton heard a noise behind him and turned his head to see John Laurens standing in the doorway of the tent. John smiled at him, looking every bit as exhausted as he was. Hamilton started to rise and wiped tears from his face.

"John..?"

"The medic is right outside. There are others he's attending to." Laurens paused, looking distressed. "Ham, reports indicate the British will take Philadelphia."

Hamilton left his mouth open and then closed it again, shaking his head. There was nothing to say.

A moment later, the medic came in and checked Lafayette's wound. Both Hamilton and Laurens stood watch over their friend. The medic cleaned the affected area and then extracted a musket ball from Lafayette's torn flesh. After he packed and dressed the wound with new bandages, he addressed the two onlookers, "He'll be fine; this is not a fatal wound and he should recover shortly."

Lafayette tried to sit up and Hamilton rushed to his side. "Are you sure?" Hamilton asked. "Oui," Lafayette replied with a hoarse voice. Hamilton propped up Lafayette with an arm around the man, supporting him.

Washington strode in, looking like they hadn't just been in an all-day battle. At the sight of Lafayette, Hamilton, and Laurens, he smiled. It was the first smile Hamilton had seen that day from him, despite their poor circumstances.

"Marquis de Lafayette," Washington addressed him and inclined his head, placing a hand over his heart. "Your bravery and honor are unmatched. I knew when I first met you that I was in the presence of a truly great man. A man who would sacrifice his life for others, a man who would sacrifice himself for liberty. I am honored to be in your presence. I say with great pride today, that you are truly deserving of command, which I shall recommend for you in my letter to congress."

Hamilton's heart dropped out of his chest. Lafayette squeezed Hamilton the best he could in his weakened state and beamed, a tear rolling from his eye. Washington bowed low to the man in the cot as Hamilton tried to appear happy for his friend. He looked over at Laurens, who was genuinely smiling for Lafayette.

"My general," Lafayette attempted to say.

"No, don't speak right now. Regain your strength, young man. I need you healthy." Washington came over and took one of Lafayette's hands, an unprecedented show of affection on his part.

Hamilton and Washngton helped Lafayette lean back in the cot and Hamilton saw Lafayette's face was covered with an indescribable look of joy. Hamilton couldn't help but feel somewhat happy for his friend and so very thankful that he was alive. That they were all alive.

"Hamilton," Washington said to him. "When you've rested and are ready, I need you to draft that letter to congress."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memorable night for Lafayette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole a line from Pride & Prejudice, sorry.

Lafayette took Hamilton by the hand and led him to the sofa by the fire. Both men sat down and stared into the flames, each in their own world in their own minds. Hamilton reached out and filled their glasses while Lafayette leaned his head against his hand and stared longingly at Hamilton.

"You know how much I care for you, Oui?"

Hamilton snapped to attention and smiled at his friend. "Of course," he said, bringing the glass to his lips and drinking.

Hamilton leaned back in the sofa and handed the other glass to Lafayette.

"I mean it," Lafayette said and cupped Hamilton's face in his hand. Hamilton could tell Lafayette was getting serious and he looked up with those big eyes of his.

"I know," Hamilton insisted.

"Non, you don't know," Lafayette pressed. He dropped his hand and looked away, fiddling with his glass of wine.

"So tell me," Hamilton said softly.

Lafayette chuckled and took a sip as if not knowing where to begin. Hamilton waited patiently while Lafayette looked up at Hamilton, shyness playing across his face for the first time.

"I've been so envious of you, this whole time," Lafayette managed to disclose.

"Me? What? Why?" Hamilton looked visibly shocked. "You have everything a man could want, what could you possibly want from me?"

Lafayette gave a half smile as if lamenting Hamilton's naivety. "Hammy, if only you knew," he said. "It has been many long years and I wish I had the courage to speak up before now. There are so many things I want to tell you." Lafayette's eyes filled with emotion as Hamilton took his hand.

"I watched from the beginning as you fell in love with him," Lafayette continued.

"With... Laurens?" Hamilton asked.

Lafayette nodded and said, "The way you looked at him and the way he looked back at you, I craved that desperately. I envied you for that love you both shared."

"Surely, you have found that kind of love, have you not?" Hamilton asked.

"Non, Hammy," Lafayette denied, "Because I wanted that with you."

"Oh...," Hamilton looked speechless. Lafayette took his hand and pressed it against his beating heart in his chest.

"How long had I watched the both of you together and longed to solely feel your touch? When you invited me to your bed I went with both eagerness and pain, knowing that I was only a second option to you. I have loved you from near and afar for so long and when Laurens... died I could see it in your face and your eyes, that the love you two shared was something unique, never to be felt again by you. By then, our time together was almost up, I had to return to France after the war and you... you were never the same.”

“You're wrong,” Hamilton said. “I have always loved you so very dearly.” Hamilton took Lafayette's hands and pulled them in close. “And I have always been in awe of you, from the very first day we met. You were so gallant, care-free, and handsome and you came from an aristocratic family with a long lineage and a proud name to back it. I never felt I could live up to your image and I always felt so inferior in comparison. Standing by your side, I knew that you would outshine me every time.”

Lafayette looked dejected and said, “I was no more in control of the circumstances of my birth than you were. Why would you hold that against me?”

“No! I didn't,” Hamilton insisted, reiterating. “Please believe me, it wasn't meant in that way. If circumstances were different we may have...”

“Circumstances?” Lafayette asked, looking hurt. “You mean Laurens.”

Hamilton remained speechless and Lafayette said, “Bon! You prove my point.”

“No, no, no!” Hamilton stammered, appearing flustered and shaking his head in disagreement. Hamilton got down on his knees in front of Lafayette and took his hand, begging. Lafayette pulled his hand back, appearing saddened.

“Please, just hear me out!” Hamilton continued to beg. “I can't change what happened in the past, but I can assure you, my feelings for you were very true and real. I would have died for you and I still would now!”

“You would do the same for Washington,” Lafayette retorted.

“There are so few people I have ever loved,” Hamilton said. “You are among those people.” Lafayette appeared to soften.

“You are not aware of the extent of my love and admiration for you,” Hamilton said, “but it is great indeed.” Hamilton rested his hands against Lafayette's knees. “I can't explain to you why I chose Laurens over you. He was so young then, so beautiful, and so innocent. In him I saw a part of myself that I wanted to protect fiercely. And you know what? I couldn't do that! When he died, that part of me died along with him and I lost that part of myself forever. I lost him forever.”

Lafayette closed his eyes and put a hand over his eyes, looking as if he didn't want to hear anymore of it.

“But, in you I saw another part! I saw all of my ambition, my bravery, and my honor when I looked at you! You taught me the true meaning of valor and compassion! I looked up to you dearly and I looked at you in wonderment and admiration every day I saw you! Don't you see? You are a part of me too; you and Laurens are each a half of my own heart!”

Hamilton reached up and pulled Lafayette's hand away, forcing him to look. “Laurens is gone, Lafayette,” Hamilton stated as if that answered all the questions Lafayette was asking. He then pulled Lafayette's hand to his mouth and kissed it, holding it there. “If only you'll let me show you how much I ardently admire and love you. Please, just stay here with me. You don't have to leave; you don't have to go back to France. I want you here; I NEED you here... with me. I want you to stay by my side, always. Just let me show you each and every day how much I care for you. Please... Lafayette.” Hamilton sounded insistent now and pulled Lafayette's hand to his face and laid his cheek against Lafayette's palm.

Lafayette let out a long sigh and closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them back up, he still looked sad, but less so.

“You know I have to go back,” Lafayette finally replied. “You have your destiny and I have mine.”

Hamilton dropped his head and leaned forward into Lafayette. “No,” he said.

“We can enjoy this time here together, now,” Lafayette insisted. “I love you dearly, Hammy.” Lafayette wound a finger through a lock of Hamilton's hair.

“Come, sit with me,” Lafayette invited, helping Hamilton up from the floor. The two sat together drinking wine in silence for some time and gazing into the fire. Lafayette put an arm around Hamilton and pulled him close. They both felt warm and comfortable together, safe in their embrace.

The door opened behind them and someone walked through. They both turned with confused looks on their face. Washington was in the entryway, the door open behind him. The two men on the sofa didn't speak, they just looked quizzically at their returned companion.

Washington hovered in the doorway, looking uneasy, but finally he spoke, “I sat in my carriage for some time and contemplated. Knowing that Lafayette is only here with us shortly, I decided to return... for his sake.” Hamilton slumped and looked away while Lafayette smiled up adoringly at Washington.

Washington proceeded to take off his coat, hat, and sat his cane down after he closed the door to keep the chill wind from coming in from the outside. He walked around to the front of the sofa and stood looming over Hamilton. “Alexander, come with me,” he said.

Hamilton looked surprised while Lafayette pushed him to a standing position. “Y-yes, Sir,” he answered.

Washington led Hamilton to the adjacent dining room while Lafayette reclined back into the couch, sipping his wine. Washington closed the door behind them and the room remained dark, with the only illumination coming from the street lamps. Hamilton felt his heart beating harder in his chest now. He was scared, no... nervous. He didn't know how Washington felt towards him at this exact moment as they hadn't exactly left things on a good note.

“Sir...”

“Alex...”

They both spoke at the same time and then stopped. Hamilton's eyes were adjusting to the dark and he could see Washington looking at him intently now.

“Please, continue...” Washington prompted him.

Hamilton took a deep breath and then blurted out, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!”

Washington nodded and said, “I know.”

“No, you can't just accept it at that!” Hamilton argued. “What I said to you was inexcusable and it was... wrong. You don't deserve that, you, of all people! You've always been good to me, and kind. I've never been fully appreciative of all you have done for me.

Washington listened patiently while Hamilton talked.

“I feel so ashamed of my actions! You're right that I push people away. I don't know what came over me. I think... I think there's something wrong with me.”

Washington spoke, “There may be, but you know what? I don't care.” Washington reached out and put his hands on Hamilton.

“But, what about Jefferson?” Hamilton asked.

Washington sighed and looked contemplative for a moment before speaking, “It hurts me to see any harm come to you, but I shall respect your choices. Just know, for now I am here for you should any problems arise.” Hamilton smiled and Washington reiterated, “I believe in you, Alexander. I need your fighting spirit by my side. I want you to do well and I want you to succeed more than anything. You're a brilliant young man, you know that? I need your passion, I need your keen mind, I need you.”

“I appreciate that, Sir.” Hamilton looked relieved as he said it. “But I cannot undo the shame I have caused you and the shame I feel inside myself due to my actions and my words.”

“Yes, you can.” Washington stepped forward and took Hamilton's face in his hands, letting his thumbs run over the smooth and coarse stubbly skin alike.

Hamilton gazed up, eyes wide. “Do you love me?” He asked, breathlessly.

“Yes,” Washington replied and pulled him in close, kissing him. Hamilton returned the kiss and wrapped his arms around Washington, feeling heady at Washington's rich scent and strong arms.

Washington pulled away and ran his thumb across Hamilton's face again while looking deep into his eyes and then he pecked him softly on the lips.

“Alexander, please say you'll be mine.”

“I will, but... what about Lafayette?”

“Let's make this a night he'll never forget.” Washington patted Hamilton and urged him in the direction of the door.

The two men came back into the living room where Lafayette looked at them expectantly. Hamilton sat down next to Lafayette on the sofa and Washington took a seat in a chair across from them.

“More wine?” Lafayette offered and they both nodded in agreement. Lafayette poured a glass for Washington and pushed it into his hand. Washington made a point to brush his own hand against Lafayette's and then looked at him warmly, but seductively.

“O?” Lafayette raised an eyebrow and grinned at Washington.

Hamilton put a hand behind Lafayette's back and trailed circles with his fingers. Lafayette looked back at Hamilton and then over again at Washington and said, “I see.”

Lafayette and Hamilton set their glasses on the small table and then leaned back into the sofa, attentive on each other.

“Hamilton,” Washington said, “kiss Lafayette.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hamilton answered and leaned in to place his lips on Lafayette's. Lafayette was very pleased by the sudden turn of events as Washington sat across from them, feeling the heat of the fire keenly for the first time.

Hamilton placed a hand behind Lafayette's neck and kissed him deeply, enjoying the taste of wine on Lafayette's tongue and sucking in the scent of that perfume he had come to love. Lafayette was an expert kisser, like all French were known to be, and Hamilton enjoyed such an adept tongue on his as well as the feel of Lafayette's plump little lips and delicate manicured fingers running across his skin.

“Good, good,” Washington encouraged them. “Now, take off your clothes, slowly.”

They began to undress each other, first untying cravats and then unbuttoning waistcoats. When Lafayette saw Hamilton's bare chest, he leaned in and kissed the exposed skin, causing prickles of goose flesh.

Their jackets and undershirt were off and thrown to the floor. Lafayette ran a hand over Hamilton's flesh, down the defined arms and over the light hair on his chest. The light from the fireplace danced off of them and their pale skin that hadn't seen the light of day in ages. They came together and kissed again, more hungry now as their cold flesh sought refuge in each others embrace.

“Your breeches as well,” Washington continued in that commanding tone. He could feel himself rising underneath his own breeches and he stroked a hand over the bulging cloth.

Lafayette got up and pushed Hamilton down into a reclining position on the sofa. He leaned over and trailed kisses down his chest and belly until he got to that fine trail of hair leading to his nether regions. Lafayette took each button in his hand and it came undone as he placed a kiss where the fabric had receded. Hamilton shivered, with each nipple standing on end and he then looked over at Washington who ran a hand over the mound in his pants and nodded back in satisfaction. This caused Hamilton to shiver again with delight.

Lafayette tore the breeches from Hamilton and he looked up, surprised at his exposed nakedness and looming erection.

“Hmmm,” Lafayette grinned at the sight.

“You forgot the socks,” Hamilton teased.

Lafayette looked over at Washington who was still reclining like a king in his own plush armchair and beholding the sight of his subjects before him.

“May I?” Lafayette asked.

"You may,” Washington said while nodding.

Lafayette came in eagerly and lowered his mouth on Hamilton's cock, who then jumped with delight. Washington let out an inaudible gasp and felt himself harden even further. Lafayette continued working up and down with care, tasting the salty beginnings of seed on his own tongue. Hamilton ran a hand through Lafayette's hair and closed his eyes, body twisting and writhing with pleasure. Washington began to unbutton his own pants, his hardness begging to be let free.

“Stop,” Washington choked out and Lafayette raised his head expectantly while Hamilton panted under him.

“Now your clothes,” Washington said and Lafayette stood up. Hamilton got up into a sitting position and stuck his fingers in the edges of Lafayette's breeches and pulled Lafayette in until his face was mere inches from the protrusion in Lafayette's pants. Hamilton bit down over the cloth and Lafayette yelped.

“Hamilton!” Washington said with mock sternness. “You may not act until I command you.”

“Yes, Sir,” he replied.

“Now take them off,” Washington added.

Hamilton worked at Lafayette's breeches clumsily, trying to undo each button, too eager to be precise. Lafayette laughed down at him and Hamilton looked up, scowling. Lafayette bucked his hips towards Hamilton's face, making his job infinitely harder while Hamilton seethed.

Finally, Hamilton had finished the job and began to pull the garment down. He made sure to run his hands lovingly over Lafayette's hips and backside, until Lafayette's cock sprang out and hit him in the chin. Hamilton grinned and stuck out his tongue as if to taste the member in front of him, but remembered Washington's commands. Lafayette stepped out of his breeches and looked back over his shoulder at Washington, who was enjoying the sight of the toned, naked Frenchman.

“Take him in your mouth, Hamilton,” Washington said, with less of an even tone now as he undid the last button on his own breeches.

Hamilton nodded hungrily and wrapped his hands around Lafayette's backside until he had each cheek in hand and pulled the standing man into his waiting and open mouth.

“Oui,” Lafayette groaned and put his hand at the back of Hamilton's head to guide him.

“Turn, so I can see you,” Washington said urgently and Lafayette angled his body to give their Commander a show. The sight of Hamilton's wet lips running across Lafayette's pink head and thick shaft make Washington gasp a little as he unleashed his own member. He touched himself, stroking it up and down as he imagined his own thick cock in Hamilton's mouth and then his seed across Hamilton's face. No, not yet, they would get to that.

“Harder,” Washington said and Lafayette slammed his cock in further while holding a chunk of hair, which made Hamilton cough.

“General, I do not know if I can keep this us,” Lafayette pleaded.

“Slower then,” Washington said and Lafayette slowed. “Now, take it out and rub it on him.”

Lafayette extracted his cock and then rubbed it across Hamilton's lips, beads of his seed mingling with saliva. Hamilton looked at it hungrily.

“Take him,” Washington almost growled and Lafayette pushed Hamilton's shoulders so he was laying prone on the sofa. Lafayette spit in his hand and then lowered a finger to the puckered hole, probing at the entrance. Hamilton jolted when the finger entered him and Washington held himself, trying not to lose focus. Hamilton opened hazy eyes and looked over at his Commander and his “little General” and he could imagine the General inside of him, filling up every inch of him. Washington was looking at him with great lust as he continued stroking up and down and then Hamilton felt another finger and inhaled sharply with pleasure.

“I hope this is enough,” Lafayette said offhandedly. Hamilton looked back up at Lafayette and nodded, eager to be consumed for pleasure.

Lafayette lifted Hamilton's leg and pulled him in, making sure this was a prime viewing angle for the Commander. Lafayette's cock quivered as he pushed at the tight hole, the anticipation building inside of him. Suddenly he slid in, inches at a time, but slowly. Hamilton reacted by releasing a sound from his throat and moving to grab his own hardened cock, head rimmed with white milky liquid.

“No, Alexander,” Washington said, breath ragged.

Hamilton put his hand back down and gripped the side of the sofa. His cock ached and begged for release. Finally Lafayette was completely inside of him and he could feel his body trembling as that spot inside of him shuddered and fluid leaked from his own aching erection. Hamilton cried out in frustration.

“Not yet,” Washington said more forcefully. The sight in front of him was magnificent. His two beautiful boys were performing perfectly in front of him, at his command, and just for his pleasure. How many times had he dreamed of their bodies writhing in ecstasy in front of him? How many times had he touched himself, dreaming of beautiful, young lips wrapped around his cock?

Lafayette moved slowly in an out of Hamilton while marveling at the site in front of him. He loved Hamilton's lithe and smooth form. He had enjoyed this moment many times before, but each time, for him, was something special. Hamilton was a good lover, but most of all, he loved Hamilton and he loved being with him. In those moments, their bodies were together as one and no one else could take that away from them.

Hamilton looked over at Washington again, who was clearly quite pleased at the sight and turned on beyond all measure. Hamilton licked his lips thirstily as Washington devoured him with his eyes, his hand moving in rhythm to each of Lafayette's thrusts. Hamilton was thrilled to see Washington naked in front of him, as this was such a rare occurrence. In all the years he had known Washington, he had never bared his member to any of them and now Hamilton couldn't get enough of the godly sight. Lafayette's thrusts filled him with mounting pleasure as he ached for Washington to take him, begging with his eyes and hoping that Washington would answer.

“O, Hammy...” Lafayette's moans brought Hamilton back around and he looked up at that sweet face, filled with indescribable pleasure. The pet name brought years and years of memories to the fore, many of a sexual nature. He loved the look on Lafayette's face when he was on the brink and lost entirely in the pleasure of Hamilton's body.

Lafayette ran a thumb down the underside of Hamilton's cock and he let out a large gasp. Lafayette hoped it wasn't enough to send him over. Washington would not be pleased with that. Lafayette looked down and pulled out the head of his penis until it was just at the brink. The fleshy ring curled into a lip as his shaft was extracted. He held it at the entrance for a moment, foreskin pulled back and member glistening against the firelight. Hamilton moaned and was breathing harder as he lay there in complete subjugation to Washington's whims. Lafayette entered again slowly, the sight of his veined member disappearing into the pink, fleshy hole, threatening to cause him to explode.

“Oh God, Laf...,” Hamilton mumbled hoarsely and Lafayette felt elated at his name being called.

“My General,” Lafayette called out to their observer with some difficulty, “may I finish?” Lafayette could feel every inch of movement, every shudder, every breath taken, and every heartbeat from Hamilton and it was all building to a maddening crescendo in Lafayette's loins. He could barely keep himself in control.

Washington waited for some excruciatingly long time before finally nodding and saying, “Yes.”

Lafayette quickened his pace and Hamilton groaned louder, each stroke hitting the sweet spot inside of him and urging him toward the finale. Hamilton managed to look over at Washington who shook his head with a “no” and Hamilton bit hit lip and wanted to scream. Hamilton didn't know how close Washington was himself as Washington studied the expression on Hamilton's face and all the ways Lafayette's cock penetrated him so thoroughly.

Lafayette grabbed the one leg with both arms now and pounded away mercilessly until he saw Hamilton's open, gaping mouth and stuck a finger inside of it. Hamilton sucked at the digit and the warm, inviting embrace of his mouth added to Lafayette's mounting pleasure.

Lafayette closed his eyes as the feeling came to a peak inside of him and he felt himself exploding as each final stroke imperiled Hamilton under him to break open. Lafayette slowed as he cried out and drove his cock home with finality, the floodgates finally open and his seed pouring forth. He filled up Hamilton entirely as he felt his cock emptying with spasm after spasm. Hamilton gasped, inviting the feeling of the warm juices filling him as Lafayette's body shuddered and gleamed with sweat above him. Lafayette heaved heavy breaths and still gripped him still with tight hands.

Lafayette pulled out his cock slowly and seed spilled out of the stretched pink hole. Lafayette's head glistened with wetness and he looked over to Washington.

“May I retire, Monsieur?”

“Yes, Lafayette. You performed admirably and now it's my turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'll notice, Hamilton is a bit of a narcissist. He's needy and a deeply insecure character in general. You can see this in his interactions with Lafayette, Washington, and others.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton obeys.

Washington unbuttoned his waistcoat slowly while devouring Hamilton with his eyes. Hamilton watched with a bit of trepidation and longing as he laid naked on the sofa, still heaving from Lafayette's handiwork. Washington peeled off the coat and dropped it on the floor, his eyes never leaving Hamilton's and his cock still rigid and exposed for all the world to see. Washington pulled his white frilly shirt off next, revealing a powerful figure underneath and Hamilton's breath quickened. Washington stood and kicked off each shoe and then pulled down his breeches, stepping out of them entirely. Now he stood before them, revealed in all his glory. Hamilton felt a chill go through him.

Washington walked over to the sofa with a serious look on his face. Hamilton knew Washington meant business when he looked like that and he scrambled up to a sitting position. He felt a nervous excitement run through his body at their impending coupling and he wondered if he could please Washington, or would he be disappointed? No, don't think of that, Hamilton told himself, trying to calm his nerves. 

Washington sat next to Hamilton and stroked his cock. “To me, Alexander,” Washington said lightly.

Hamilton jumped up to oblige with Lafayette's seed visible and shiny running down his leg. He straddled Washington, facing him and hovered above Washington's erect member. Washington put his large hands on either side of Hamilton's hips and grasped him, lowering him down onto his stiff, pulsing rod. 

Lafayette reclined sleepily on an opposite chair, still naked and sipping wine. He was clearly enjoying the show in font of him and grinned when he saw Washington take Hamilton. 

Hamilton gasped as Washington's cock slid in, unobstructed and sinking fully to the hilt. Washington closed his eyes and tensed at the sudden rush of pleasure. Lafayette's warm, sticky seed covered Washington's member completely and provided the perfect lubrication for Hamilton's sweet hole, which tightened around his cock so thoroughly.

Washington whispered, “If this is too much, let me know.” Hamilton nodded and bit his lip while his asshole quivered around Washington's turgid length.

Washington wrapped his arms around Hamilton and pulled him closer, pressing Hamilton's firm prick between them into Washington's stomach. Washington leaned back, resting his head on the back of the sofa while keeping his eye's on Hamilton's face. He undulated his hips beneath Hamilton and he gasped, throwing his head back while his hair rolled off of his shoulders. Washington studied every corner of Hamilton's face, enjoying the look of satisfaction there completely and utterly. He tried to savor every moment and every movement of their bodies on each other, but the jolts of sheer electricity and bliss that ran through his loins and spread out through the rest of his body entirely disarmed him.

“Alex...,” Washington whispered hoarsely while guiding Hamilton's body up and down again. Lafayette's seed made a squicking sound and started to run down Washington's balls with a wet but pleasing feeling. 

Washington brought his hands around to Hamilton's chest and trailed down it, finally stopping at a firm, darkened nipple. He took it in his fingers and tweaked it lightly, which made Hamilton's breath catch.

The sight in front of Washington was wonderful. He had dreamed of this for so long, and now to finally be in the moment, to feel Hamilton's body writhing against his, to be able to pleasure him, to be able to command him like this. Washington's head spun with delight as he remembered going from a secret longing even he wouldn't admit to himself, to a tried and true friendship that slowly became more intimate over time. And now this, the culmination of everything. 

Hamilton slid up and down over Washington's massive cock as it filled him up inside. It slipped in and out deftly and hit every angle and accessed every part of Hamilton that made him want to scream out. Then Hamilton opened his eyes and saw Washington's face, his own eyes focused on him and only him. Those eyes conveyed lust, longing, desire, and most of all, the need to gorge on every inch of Hamilton's body. Washington's fingers dug into his flesh and his powerful hands ran over his prickled skin and then came to rest on his backside, firmly pressing him down on that shaft further and harder.

Hamilton shuddered and exhaled and then fell forward, lips meeting Washington's as he kissed hungrily at his mouth. His own cock rubbed against Washington's stomach as their bodies pressed tightly together and he could feel it full to bursting and practically leaking his own seed with a fervent desire for release. Hamilton pressed himself in harder as his head rubbed deeper and faster on Washington's skin and sent jolts of euphoria through him as Washington quickened the pace.

Lafayette was watching intently across the way and his nether regions tingled and burned with heat as he felt more and more turned on and drank more and more wine.

“Oh Alex, I've wanted this for so long,” Washington uttered. It had been so long since he had felt anything this joyous. There were those few times during the war with Lafayette, but Washington was hard pressed to break up their little threesome with Laurens and often felt like an outsider.

Hamilton moved in rhythm with him, pressing down so hard that every time he hit something deep in there he groaned and more fluid leaked from his shaft. 

Hamilton leaned in to inhale Washington's scent once again. It intermingled with their sweat and their seed and formed a new scent that made Hamilton dizzy. 

Washington's pace quickened and Hamilton moaned, “I... I can't hold it.”

Washington exhaled hard and said, “I can't either, but God, I wish this could last forever.” Washington was certainly getting on in age and didn't have the same excitement as a young man, but when it came to Hamilton, he was about ready to explode.

Hamilton buried his face in Washington's neck and Washington dug deeper with both hands and shaft. Hamilton came down hard and felt balls beneath him as Washington's cock opened him.

“Oh God,” Hamilton moaned, kissing Washington's neck.

Then came the upstroke and Hamilton was on Washington's tip, groaning and quivering, his cock slid up Washington's stomach along with the rest of his body and it sent shivers of bliss throughout him.

“C-can I finish?” Hamilton said shuddering.

“Wait,” Washington commanded, nipping at Hamilton's neck.

“I- I can't, Sir.”

Washington lowered him one again and he gasped, pressing his mouth to Washington's and wrapping his hands behind Washington's neck. Washington ran a hand up and down his back, the sweat trailing behind him as he did so.

Suddenly Lafayette was there next to Hamilton, kissing his shoulder. Washington beamed with approval at their mutual friend.

“Lean back, Hammy,” Lafayette said and Hamilton did, arching his back and flexing himself while impaled.

Lafayette reached out and took Hamilton's cock and held it while Hamilton gasped again at the new powerful sensation.

“Please, Sir,” Hamilton begged, but Washington filled him again which cut off his pleas and replaced them with panting.

“May he?” Lafayette asked, looking up at their Commander. He could tell that Hamilton wasn't able to hold himself much longer because Lafayette's hand was soon coated with the wet beginnings of Hamilton's seed.

“Yes, you may,” Washington said, looking at Hamilton encouragingly.

Washington picked up the speed again and Hamilton closed his eyes tightly. Lafayette gripped Hamilton's member in his hand and stroked it, feeling the slit of his head with his thumb. Hamilton cried out once and Washington felt himself about to go over the edge. Lafayette watched his two friends intently, feeling the need rising in him once more. 

Lafayette continued working on Hamilton's solid shaft and looked up again at Washington, who was focused intently on Hamilton's face. Lafayette put his other hand firmly on Washington's shoulder, feeling the muscles tensed beneath the skin.

Washington continued faster, sliding in and out and practically bouncing Hamilton on top of him. Both of their breathing was quick and ragged when suddenly Hamilton tensed and cried out louder, moments later shooting his seed all over Washington's chest and Lafayette's hand.

Hamilton slumped and Lafayette pulled away, licking at his hand with a smile upon his face. 

Washington pulled a handful of Hamilton's hair hard and wrapped the other arm tightly around Hamilton's waist, letting out his final powerful strokes before grunting and pulling Hamilton down fully on top of his cock and holding him there while Washington's body shuddered and then fell back into the sofa.

Hamilton collapsed on top of Washington like a rag doll while Washington's seed leaked from his nether regions. Washington fell back into the sofa with eyes closed and gulped for air. Lafayette laid sprawled out next to them looking sleepy and yet turned on once again. Washington's chest rose and fell with Hamilton's own as they tried to regain their senses.

Finally Hamilton extracted himself with a popping sound and dropped down into the sofa next to Washington, closing his eyes and running a hand through his tangled hair.

Lafayette sighed and said, “I am going to miss this.”

Washington finally stood and turned around to address the other two, “Boys, let's get cleaned up and head to bed.”

After a short time, Washington peeled back the covers on the bed and got into the cool, inviting sheets naked. He sprawled out in the middle of the bed with arms out wide like a starfish. Lafayette crawled in next to him naked on one side and Hamilton crept into the other side of the bed, naked as well. Lafayette and Hamilton curled up next to Washington and put their arms around his middle. Lafayette wound his hand through Hamilton's and they looked up and smiled at each other in the dark. Washington was already beginning to breathe heavier as he pulled them in closer to his warm, powerful body.

“Good boys,” he whispered before falling off to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton, Laurens, and... Tench Tilghman? get into some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a weekend! I met Daveed Diggs like four times and I am pretty much dying and will have to be laid to rest soon! At least I got this chapter out first!

November - 1777, Encampment near Valley Forge

Alexander Hamilton pulled his coat tighter around him. It was already starting to get cold, with the nights even colder. Washington had been preparing his troops for encampment at Valley Forge and had relied heavily on Hamilton and Laurens to draft letters to congress, begging for supplies so they could make it through the winter. Hamilton felt particularly chilled to the bone, never having endured such a winter in his entire life up until now. In the beginning of these cold nights, he particularly sought out Laurens to snuggle up to, with not much protest from the other man. Still, he was unsure how Laurens felt about him, if at all. Was he just tolerating him? Was he using him to just stay warm himself? Alexander didn't like uncertainty and most of all, he hated the doubts that constantly plagued him. He often cursed his own mind for working in such a way.

Laurens came up behind him and called out, "Cold, Alexander? It's really not that bad out here." Laurens shrugged and smiled in that way that made it impossible for anyone to hate him, least of all, Alexander.

"Easy for you to say, aren't you used to this kind of weather?"

Hamilton's robust friend Tench Tilghman, who had a mess of curly blonde hair and blue eyes and was another one of Washington's aide-de-camps, came up on the other side and remarked, "Better get used to it, Ham. I don't suspect there will be much action this winter. I hear that Washington plans on ordering a permanent encampment here. We may just have to tough it out and I really don't think we have the supplies for such an endeavor, so we better just make the best of it for now."

Laurens nodded in agreement, shoving his hands in his pocket. "I hear there's a tavern nearby; we should take advantage of their stock while we have the chance... and while they still have supplies," he said.

Tench grimaced and said, "Washington very well may appropriate their stock, so we'd better take advantage soon."

"I heard that Baron von Steuben likes his wine and Washington's always trying to keep him happy, so that very well may be the case," Laurens whispered, looking around and trying not to look too suspicious.

"Baron von Steuben's a pain in the ass," Hamilton groaned, pulling his coat even tighter than before and looking miserable.

"He IS training our troops though," Tench replied.

Laurens sighed, "I think he has a penchant for men. There have been times where I am more than certain he propositioned me." Hamilton shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh ho!" Tench laughed. "So you too?" Hamilton looked up at Tench, surprised. "Well, what about you, Ham?" Tench asked, nudging him.

"He wouldn't dare," Hamilton replied sourly.

"Is that so?" Tench gave him a knowing look.

"What are you implying anyway?" Hamilton rounded on Tench and asked.

Tench laughed heartily and backed up, holding his hands up in a sign of placation. "Just kidding, Ham."

Laurens raised his eyebrow at his two friends. "Von Steuben's not so bad. He really does mean well, you just have to let him down lightly."

"You're a kinder man than I, Laurens," Tench lamented.

"If Von Steuben's getting more sex than I am this winter then truly the world is a bad place," Hamilton grumbled. Laurens' face turned red beneath his freckles and Tench uproariously laughed, causing a few passing soldiers to turn and look.

Washington stopped by the group of three men and the atmosphere changed. "Is there something I need to know?" he asked seriously. The three friends straightened up as if schoolboys being chastened.

"No, Sir," Tench answered professionally.

Washington gave the men a sidelong glance and then lingered on Alexander before walking away. Tench let out a breath of relief and said, "Do you think Von Steuben's propositioned him?" Hamilton snorted and Laurens looked shocked.

"I'm being serious!" Tench insisted, sticking out his arms with a plea.

"Can you really see the Commander going for that?" Hamilton looked affronted.

Laurens interjected, "I sure can't!"

"Really guys?" Tench looked disappointed. "I mean, I'm pretty sure he, uh... goes for that kind of thing." Hamilton rolled his eyes and Laurens snorted. Tench continued, "Am I really the only one who has heard rumors that he had a tryst with the Marquis de Lafayette?"

Hamilton's face turned red at this exclamation and Laurens turned to the side, shuffling his feet and looking uncomfortable.

"Really?" Tench exclaimed again. "Why are you getting so red, Ham?"

"Let's not talk about this anymore," Laurens said suddenly and without warning.

"OK," Tench harrumphed. "I had no idea you two were so stuffy about this kind of thing."

"I'm really not," Hamilton retorted which made Laurens look even more uncomfortable.

"Get it together then." Tench came over and clapped the two on the shoulders, laughing.

"Ever the optimist," Hamilton rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, you apparently can't fathom thinking of our Commander as a normal human being," Tench punched back.

"He's married Tench, give it a rest," Laurens chided.

"That really hasn't stopped quite a few people," Tench pointed out. "So when are you two getting married anyway?" Hamilton and Laurens simultaneously turned as red as beets.

"To women! Not to each other!" Tench threw up his hands in defeat.

"Eh, someday I suppose. Maybe after this war is over," Hamilton replied.

"Laurens?" Tench prodded him.

He sighed and spoke, "I'm... already married." Laurens looked down and away, as if embarrassed.

"Fantastic!" Tench chuckled and clapped his hands.

"Oh..." Hamilton started, "I had no idea." He looked struck.

Laurens sighed deeply and put his hand over his face. "It was a mistake and I wish to speak no more on this matter."

Hamilton and Tench both shrugged at each other, not wishing to provoke Laurens further.

"Uh... so when is the Marquis coming back to us?" Tench wondered.

"Hopefully soon; I heard his wound is on the mend," Hamilton answered and Laurens scowled a bit.

"What's eating at you, Laurens?" Tench pulled the freckled boy in close and gave him a squeeze.

"Nothing, it's nothing," Laurens assured and then paused, as if thinking. "Well, it's just that..." he trailed off.

"Uh... what?" Tench looked confused and Hamilton studied Laurens' face, looking worried.

"He uh..." Laurens continued, or at least tried to, but he seemed nervous at speaking the words and bit his lip. "I'm not sure if I care for his company."

Hamilton's face fell and Tench raised his eyebrows saying, "What? Are you kidding me? That man is all class. Let's not forget about his sense of humor either. Really, I'd choose to have him around any day, but let's be realistic, Washington is giving him a command so it's likely we won't see him much anyway. And so what if he had an affair with the Commander?" Tench giggled, talking excitedly. "What do you think, Ham?" Tench nudged him with his elbow.

"I, uh... agree with Laurens," Hamilton responded quietly.

Tench scoffed and gave them both a look, throwing up his hands. "Since when?" he asked. Hamilton shot him a look in response.

"Really Ham?" Tench poked him. "You two seemed pretty close." Hamilton's face became even redder.

"I... don't know what you mean," Hamilton said.

Laurens turned and almost walked away.

Tench snorted and folded his arms, placing himself in front of Hamilton and towering slightly above him. "You can't fool me," he said and Hamilton's face scrunched up. Hamilton gave Tench a light shove and Tench laughed, looking like he wanted to box. He rounded on Hamilton and dodged left and then right, then he jumped forward and threw an arm around his neck, pinning Hamilton in a head lock. Tench then began to spin in circles and Hamilton laughed, waving his arms. Laurens turned back and a smile broke out on his face and he began to laugh too.

"Need help, Alex?" Laurens called out and then joined the fray, grabbing Tench from behind and trying to pry him off of Hamilton.

Hamilton managed to spin in Tench's grasp and then pull himself out of the headlock. He then grabbed Tench around the neck and wedged his arm against Tench's own, disabling it. Hamilton and Laurens working together managed to completely subdue Tench and he fell to the ground with a yelp.

"This isn't fair!" he cried. Hamilton and Laurens helped him up Hamilton slapped him hard from behind.

"You're pretty dirty back there, better dust off!" Hamilton smirked.

Tench's stomach growled, which broke the three men out of their mood. "Let's finish drafting our letters for Washington and then I really think we need to visit that tavern," he suggested.

***********************

Tench ate a small piece of bread and cheese while writing in order to stop the gnawing feeling in his stomach, but his body still craved real food and his belly rumbled with the thought of stew and a fine ale. He led his two friends, Alexander and Laurens, down the path to the tavern that night and the men wrapped themselves in scarves and thick jackets in order to keep the cold at bay. Tench talked animatedly as he walked on and Hamilton and Laurens couldn't help but to laugh at their friend's jokes. Hamilton often wondered how he could stay in such a good mood, despite their circumstances and Laurens responded shyly to much of Tench's crude humor. Tench seemed intent on getting Laurens to open up and to be more comfortable around them and it seemed like slowly but surely it was working.

Hamilton gazed over at Laurens, feeling his stomach flutter every time the man laughed. Sometimes he caught Laurens looking back, but when Laurens saw him noticing, he would quickly turn away. Tench seemed quite oblivious to the whole thing. Hamilton enjoyed his company not only for his humor, but for his intellectual pursuits. Tench was fluent in French as well as Hamilton and was able to help greatly in that regard. He often translated letters from Von Steuben, Washington, and other French allies and it seemed to be that he would soon be translating letters from Lafayette too.

Lafayette had sent a couple missives already while he was in medical recovery and they ended up being pages long in his flowing and flowery type of script. Tench often got a laugh out of Lafayette's musings and would pass them on to Hamilton, who would also smile and grin while reading about how hard it was for Lafayette to relieve himself while his leg was in a cast. Laurens often sat back when these letters came in, grumbling and feeling dejected at his inability to understand them. Doubtless that Laurens dislike for Lafayette grew the more and more he was away on sick leave.

The men got to the tavern finally and ordered stew and ale and sat on a bench, enjoying the warmth from the fireplace. Hamilton opened his coat and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes momentarily.

"You look like you just died and went to heaven, Ham," Tench laughed, scooping up spoonfuls of stew and shoving them into his mouth.

Laurens sat next to Hamilton and poked at his bowl. "Not hungry?" Hamilton asked.

"I've got a lot on my mind, Alexander," Laurens replied.

"Care to indulge us?" Tench asked between mouthfuls and Laurens shook his head.

"You really should eat; it's going to be a hard winter and we need to build our strength while we can," Hamilton said softly. Laurens nodded and began to eat his food while Hamilton threw back his ale.

"Ooh," Tench blurted out, "look across the way!" A woman with a pretty blue dress sat in the corner by the fire. She eventually got up and collected the mugs that were empty. Laurens shrugged and went back to eating, while Hamilton stared, smiling.

"See? Hamilton gets it," Tench giggled while poking Hamilton in the arm.

"Are you going to go for it?" Hamilton leaned over and asked deviously.

"I may, what about you? I wouldn't be able to compete."

"Then I shall leave it to you."

"Good man," Tench said, gobbling up the last of his food.

"Be careful, you might get sick eating that way," Laurens pointed out.

"Bah," Tench laughed again heartily, face already flushing red from the alcohol.

"Say, what would you do if Washington suddenly walked through the door?" Tench asked.

"What's this fascination with Washington's private life all of the sudden?" Hamilton asked back.

"Heh, he is a man, just like the rest of us, but you two seem intent on putting him on some kind of pedestal. I'm just trying to make him more human," Tench retorted, looking smug.

Hamilton rolled his eyes for the second time that day and said, "Well, I would probably choke on my food, that's how I would react." Tench threw up his hand as if he was confused.

"I'd probably act the same way," Laurens blurted out.

"You two are something, pray tell me why?" Tench raised and inquiring eyebrow.

"Well..." Hamilton started, thinking, "he doesn't seem one for a tavern, nor does he seem to like mingling with the enlisted troops. Sure, he'll entertain the officers, like us, but he's always kept an invisible barrier up. He seems rigidly professional and to be honest, his interactions with Martha have always been oddly professional as well." Laurens and Tench looked like they were musing through something.

"Well, not every marriage can be happy, right Laurens?" Tench teased and Laurens' face went red.

"Hey, leave him alone," Hamilton warned Tench.

"You're so overprotective of your friends Ham; why can't you be like that with me?" Tench was getting louder- and redder -with each sip of ale and his jokes were becoming more pointed.

"You don't need protecting, Tench," Hamilton grinned widely and he put his arm around Laurens and pulled him closer. Hamilton threw back the rest of his ale and called on another one by raising his empty mug. Laurens looked slightly uncomfortable under Hamilton's "overprotective" grasp.

"Finally, a man who can match me in libations!" Tench grinned back, ready to drink Hamilton under the table.

**************

"Th-that womun's lookin' at you Tench," Laurens slurred, an hour later. All three men looked over, hazily and through alcohol infused eyes.

"I- I'ma go talk to her," Tench slurred back and he slammed his mug on the table with an audible slam. Ale jolted forth from the cup and splashed Hamilton in the face. He closed his eyes and wiped at his face with his sleeve.

"G- gimme sum courage, boys," Tench hiccuped and burped at the same time.

"Just go!" Hamilton groaned while Laurens laughed harder than he should have and moments later grabbed his stomach.

"I'm goin', I'm goin'!" Tench got up, steadied himself, and walked away.

Hamilton let out a laugh and put his arm around Laurens again, who turned redder than he already was from the alcohol. Hamilton leaned over and whispered in Laurens' ear, "It's a cold night tonight, are you going to warm my bed?"

"Er..." Laurens faltered and then said, "maybe, we'll see."

"Come on!" Hamilton laughed again drunkenly. "Why are you being like this?" Hamilton squeezed Laurens harder. "I know you want me," he said voice lowered.

"Ah..." Laurens let this sound draw out. "I- I don't know if I can."

"Psshhhhhh," Hamilton snorted, drinking more ale. "Such a tease, John." Laurens looked up at his friend's flushed face, that nice red hue to his cheeks and ears, those deep eyes, and delicate lips that shined with the remnants of ale and Laurens felt a quickening in his heart, stomach, and somewhere else.

"Once we get outside, you're fair game," Hamilton said with a glint in his eye.

Tench came stumbling back to the table with a red hand-print on his face. He was giggling like usual and asked, "So what are you two lovebirds getting up to over here?"

Laurens leaned forward and hissed, "Tench!"

Hamilton gave a knowing look and scooted closer to Laurens, putting his face near the other man's ear. He breathed out a heated breath and the feeling made Lauren shiver and also it made him intensely turned on, which he tried to hide.

Tench let out a huge laugh and slammed his fist into the table. "I knew it!" Laurens looked supremely embarrassed and just glared at Tench.

"Ugh." Tench put his head in his hands and moaned saying, "I've about had it... I think we should go."

"I agree," Hamilton smirked at Laurens and pushed the man off the bench.

***************

Once outside, Hamilton sidled up to Laurens and put his arm around him. It was cold, but none of them felt the chill due to their intoxication. Hamilton was looking at Laurens intently, while Tench stumbled on ahead of them. Occasionally, Hamilton would reach over and nibble on his ear or touch Laurens a certain way, which quickly earned his hand a smack.

Tench glanced back over his shoulder and saw how intent Hamilton was on Laurens and he waved behind him saying, "I'ma go back... and, uh... leave you two alone. Heh." Then he sauntered off into the night.

"I hope he's okay," Laurens said.

"He'll be fine; since when has Tench ever not been able to take care of himself?"

"Hmm, good point."

Hamilton started pushing Laurens toward an alleyway and off of the main road.

"Where are we going?" Laurens asked, suspiciously. Hamilton didn't answer.

The two men stumbled, but finally Hamilton got Laurens around the back of a darkened house and he pushed him up against the wall and started kissing him. For a moment, Laurens was kissing him back and he felt elated. Hamilton pressed himself into Laurens and could feel his bulging manhood and this made him feel even more ravenous. Hamilton grabbed Laurens hand and guided it down to his own rising need, directing Laurens to cup the bulge and moaning into his mouth and then neck and ear.

Laurens suddenly pushed Hamilton away and he went stumbling back, looking surprised.

"I can't do this," Laurens stated, wiping his mouth.

"Is this... because of your wife?"

"What? No! I mean... no, it's not that." Laurens looked frustrated.

"Then what?" Hamilton looked genuinely concerned. "I thought you wanted me too?"

"I- I do, but..."

"But?" Laurens could see the hurt shining from Hamilton's eyes in the moonlit night.

"Look, I'm not going to be just another conquest for you!" Laurens blurted out angrily. Hamilton looked taken aback.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you think I know about you?"

Hamilton's face fell and he looked dark. "What could you possibly know about me?"

"I know enough!"

"That doesn't answer the question!"

"I've heard the rumors going all over camp about you and you're a fool if you don't know about them, since apparently everyone is talking about you!" Laurens' breath came quick and heated as he spit out these words.

Hamilton clenched his fists and then covered his chest with his folded arms.

"I've heard all the rumors about you and Lafayette... and don't even get me started on the others!"

Hamilton looked down and away, not bothering to answer the accusations.

"So it's true then!" Laurens threw up his hands, defeated.

Hamilton looked up, sadness on his face, "No, please!"

"I don't... I can't do this..." Laurens said deflated.

"It's not like that!" Hamilton cried.

"Then what is it like?" Laurens accused.

"It... he doesn't mean anything to me. Not like... you." Hamilton struggled with his choice of words, treading carefully.

"How can I believe that?"

"Can you just please believe me?"

"I don't know, Alexander, I just don't know."

"Please, give me the chance to prove it to you!"

Laurens threw up his hands and shrugged saying, "I'm going back to camp."

Hamilton sighed and followed a short distance behind him, staying silent throughout their entire trip back.

**************

When they came in view of the campsite, Laurens disappeared behind some tents and Hamilton stood beneath a tree, feeling the crisp air on his skin and shivering for the first time since imbibing so much ale.

A horse whined in the distance and soon it made an appearance in front of Washington's house. Hamilton looked over and saw the Marquis de Lafayette in the saddle. He had a crutch slung over the back and wore some type of wrapping on his leg still. His French hat was meticulously perched on top of his head and his regal coat was slung over his shoulders, with one arm hooked inside and a scarf covering his throat and mouth. He pulled it down with a gloved hand and his hot breath hit the air, billowing out as if a puff of smoke. Hamilton in his sadness was transfixed by the sight as he watched his friend's solitary form.

Lafayette swung one leg over the saddle as he dismounted and hit the ground, wobbly and unsteady. In a split second Hamilton stood there under the tree and saw two choices, he could walk away as he had not yet been spotted, or he could... Hamilton rushed over to the horse just as Lafayette was teetering on his feet and he grabbed him from behind, bracing Lafayette so he wouldn't fall.

Lafayette spun and a smile spread out across his face. "Hammy!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I'm so happy to see you." Lafayette took Hamilton in his arms and crushed him there and then kissed both of Hamilton's cheeks fervently. Hamilton couldn't help but to smile as Lafayette's face lit up with joy.

"What a wondrous sight to be greeted by!" Lafayette said and smiled with eyes twinkling bright and still holding Hamilton.

Hamilton laughed and then choked back tears. He hadn't realized just how distraught he had been from Laurens' rejection until now, when Lafayette was standing in front of him and he realized what he had lost.

"Tears for me, Hammy?" Lafayette reached up to brush at Hamilton's face but Hamilton didn't dare mention why he was crying.

"Come, let's get you inside and in bed," Hamilton said, looking around briefly and hoping not to spot Laurens, while simultaneously not caring.

"Hmmmm," Lafayette gave Hamilton a knowing look. "Do you have something special in store for me?"

Hamilton smiled in a knowing way back and wrapped his arm around Lafayette as Lafayette grabbed his crutch.

"Come..." Hamilton urged Lafayette again, smiling with that same look on his face.

"What a nice surprise; I can't wait," Lafayette purred.

From behind one of the tents, John Laurens watched Hamilton take Lafayette into the house.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton dominates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for underage (although, I don't think it was underage in the time period this takes place in).

July - 1777, Washington's Camp

Alexander Hamilton released a long stream as he stood against a tree, breeches slightly pulled down. 

"Ahhhhh..."

"Quit taking so long," Tench complained.

"I've been holding it for too long," Hamilton replied and shook it off.

"I'll remind you, we have a long day ahead of us, Mr. Lieutenant Colonel," Tench mocked. "Washington is preparing to leave for Philadelphia and we still have a mound of correspondence to work on."

"I'd rather work on my chances of finding a warm bed and a warm body, if you know what I mean," Hamilton shot back, turning around and grinning.

"You're terrible. In fact, I think you're worse than I am." Tench looked annoyed and bemused at the same time. "Look, we get the work done and then we can work on extracurriculars."

Hamilton threw his head back and laughed, wagging his hips in Tench's direction.

"Please, God, put that thing away," Tench threw his hand out in front of him and looked away.

Hamilton seemed to enjoy making his friend uncomfortable, but he still tucked it away in his breeches. Hamilton licked his lips and came over to Tench, rubbing up again him in a lewd and joking fashion.

"You asshole; I'm gonna get you!" Tench grabbed Hamilton around the waist and picked the smaller man up in the air, flipping him sideways.

"No, no, no! Please no!" Hamilton begged, laughing and flailing his feet.

Tench let out a mighty roar and began to run with Hamilton still in his arms. 

"No! Please don't drop me!" Hamilton begged and then covered his eyes saying, "I can't look!"

Tench twirled Hamilton around in a circle and then eventually set him down on the ground.

"That will teach you!" Tench put his hands on his hips and looked proud of his physical prowess.

"I think you need help bedding a woman or two," Hamilton stated and straightened his clothes. "You seem rather frustrated."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm certainly not getting as much as you!" Tench poked Hamilton in the chest.

"I'm happy to share," Hamilton exclaimed boldly while undulating his body.

"You'd better." Tench grumbled and pushed Hamilton toward the camp.

When the two men returned to Washington's staff area, they sorted through various correspondences and missives. Washington came in the door and looked over at the two men working and stated, "Good, I'm glad to see you're both taking care of business." Washington walked over behind Hamilton and put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton, you've been doing an excellent job. I am pleased to have added you as a member of my staff. Please keep up the good work as things are only going to get harder from here on out." 

"Yes, Sir," Hamilton replied with pride and Washington turned and walked out of the door.

"Oooh, someone's becoming Washington's favorite," Tench pointed out.

"Shut it." Hamilton rolled his eyes. "This is only a step on my way to achieve my goals."

"And what would those goals be?" Tench asked.

"Command, of course," Hamilton snorted while scribbling.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Tench retorted. "You know how hard it is to get a command position? Every officer wants command right now and so few are actually qualified."

"I'm qualified, Tench."

"Really, and how so?"

"If Washington appoints me, I can prove myself."

"That's what I thought," Tench came back dismissively. 

"This is war; people will die, Tench. Then I'll get my command." Hamilton added grimly.

"So you're some sort of attrition vulture?"

"No, I'm opportunistic."

"What a friend to have," Tench ribbed and then looked over at his stack of papers, sighing. "Oh God, we're never going to finish these."

Hamilton stood up and walked over to Tench's desk. Tench looked up at him surprised as Hamilton bent down and took half of Tench's papers.

"Now we'll finish quicker," Hamilton remarked, flashing his friend a smug smile.

*****************

It was night and the moon was high in the sky when Hamilton and Tench finally finished all of their papers. Tench got up from his bench, wobbling sorely and stretching to regain circulation. Hamilton looked antsy and put away his items hastily. 

"I need a drink," Tench remarked. "And food. Oh, and sex." Hamilton gave out a snort as he stuffed papers in his desk and blew on his last sheet, trying to dry the ink.

"Up for it, Ham?" Tench propositioned.

"Not with you," Hamilton joked.

"Ugh." Tench rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"But the food and drink... yes."

Tench came over and put his meaty arm around Hamilton and insisted, "Come on then," and led him out the door into the warm summer night.

Once outside, Tench grabbed his package and adjusted it exclaiming, "I'm so riled up right now that I could fornicate with a horse."

"You've got to be kidding me," Hamilton said flatly. Tench broke out in a huge howl and it echoed through the night air along with the other sounds from a busy and bustling camp.

The two men walked by a campfire surrounded by enlisted men with a kettle hanging over it. The whiff of food caught Tench's nose and his stomach growled hungrily. The men all had bottles in their hands and they seemed to be enjoying their food and drink in quite an exuberant manner. Hamilton laughed at Tench's loud stomach noises and Tench groaned in return, grasping at his belly. A man they knew as Corporal Jonathan Stokes spotted them and waved, calling them over.

"Gentlemen! Do you wish to share in our campfire?"

Tench hovered, looking unsure and holding his growling stomach while Hamilton slapped him on the back and walked over, laughing. The men around the campfire cheered at Hamilton's arrival and Tench quickly scurried over behind him, choosing a spot next to Hamilton. Jonathan shoved a bowl of food into Hamilton's hand and then shoved a bottle in Tench's direction. Tench took a long swig, which elicited another chorus of cheers from the surrounding men. Hamilton shoved the food into his mouth rather sloppily and looked around the group, grinning from ear to ear.

Tench leaned over and whispered to him, "Might I remind you that we are officers? It's not our place to be mingling with the enlisted men."

"Oh shush," Hamilton dismissed Tench, putting a hand in his face. Tench Shrugged and took a bowl that was handed to him and passed the bottle to Hamilton, who took a deep swig himself.

Jonathan spoke, "Can you believe we're here in Washington's camp? I can't wait for us to be free of British rule and to live in our own country, governed by our own countrymen!" The men around the campfire cheered.

"I miss my farm in New Hampshire," one man said. "My wife is there now, waiting for me to win our freedom and then to come back home so we can start a family."

"I have a girl back home," another said. "Her name is Polly and I'm afraid she won't be there for me when I get back. What if I die out here?"

"Hey, stop that nonsense!" Tench yelled between bites. "None of us are dying out here, you hear me? And she's a fool not to wait for you, which means she's not worth your time!" The men cheered again and the worried man broke out into a smile.

"Our cause is a noble one!" another man yelled after drinking a hearty gulp. "To freedom!" The men around the fire yelled again as the flames crackled and popped embers into the night air.

Hamilton snorted, "Freedom for whom?" The cheers died down and all the men looked around at each other. Tench looked up at his friend and nodded in solidarity. "Men are in chains now as we speak! Will they be free when this war is won?" It was a pointed question that stunned the suddenly solemn group.

"All men are created equal, right?" Hamilton asked, referencing their declaration. The men were focused on Hamilton and started to nod their heads in agreement. Corporal Jonathan Stokes raised a bottle to Hamilton and said, "hear hear," and the men began to follow suit, holding up their bottles to Hamilton and echoing, "hear hear!"

Hamilton began to speak on the merits of freeing slaves and the men seemed to be enraptured by his oratory. Tench leaned back and watched his friend get into it, while continuing to imbibe. Hamilton spoke between swigs and soon his speech became more eloquent and grand as he consumed more and more. The men began to cheer at every point he made and it was clear they were all rather intoxicated as well. Tench looked over and saw a young boy with curly reddish-brown hair and freckles who seemed to be enamored with Hamilton's speaking. The boy was shy and didn't speak up when the rest of the men did, but he was clearly welcomed as part of the group. He sipped his bottle quietly and occasionally raised it when the other men cheered on Hamilton.

After Hamilton's lecture, the group talk began to devolve into tawdriness and women came up as the subject. One man proclaimed drunkenly that he was so hard up for a woman, that he was constantly walking around stiffly with his protrusion constantly getting in the way of things. He said he had never been this long without sex before as it had been a month, one whole month, since he had slept with a woman and he didn't know if he could handle it anymore. Tench seemed to be pleased at this turn in conversation and he nodded his head vivaciously and laughed out loud at each story. 

The read-headed boy continued to stare at Hamilton with wide eyes, which Tench spotted and he prodded Hamilton with his elbow to notify him.

One man piped up and mentioned that he has solicited a woman of the night near the local tavern and the rest of the men groaned and cheered simultaneously. Many men seemed to consider this course of action thoroughly after it was made known to them. 

"Well, I know where I'm going," Tench leaned over and whispered in Hamilton's ear. 

Hamilton rolled his eyes and said, "Be my guest."

"I know you've been dying to get some too," Tench snorted back and Hamilton shrugged with a wink.

"Hey Basil," one of the men called out and poked the red-headed boy in the side, "what about you?" A flush slowly crept over the young man's face and he put his head down and tightened his body inward.

"Yeah, kid, what about you?" Another shouted and whooped.

"Surely he's not a virgin?" Jonathan whooped and the boy became redder. Tench and Hamilton also laughed, their faces red from the hooch.

"Well, are ya?" Another man called out. "I ain't never heard ye talk o' women."

"I..." Basil started to say.

"Come on!" 

"Come on!" 

"Out with it!" 

"Well, are ya?" They all cried in unison.

"I- I've never had a woman," Basil said quietly and the group erupted in laughter and hoots, as well as supportive and consoling pats on the shoulder and back.

"We oughta get him one o' them women down at the tavern!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!" they all shrieked and Tench hiccuped between giggles.

"N- no! please don't!" Basil cried out, worriedly.

"Hah, what a joker!" The laughter died down and Hamilton reclined with an amused smile on his face.

The men kept talking animatedly about soliciting a woman for Basil, while he blushed a furious red. It was clear this was not going to happen tonight, as they were all too sloshed, but it soon became a plan for the future, of which Basil seemed rather horrified of. 

Basil quickly drained the rest of his bottle, while looking at the ground and kicking a clump of grass. Hamilton watched the kid with a keen eye.

"Ham, can you believe this kid?" Tench hiccuped again in Hamilton's ear and Hamilton shot him a disgusted look.

"Yeah, I can," Hamilton replied evenly.

"Oh God..." Tench fell back on the ground and everyone turned their heads to look. When they saw Tench was fine they burst out again in animated speech and loud guffaws. None of them noticed the kid get up from the fire and retreat into the night, but Hamilton did. He extricated himself from the group and followed the boy through the trees and down by the river, the moon shining bright overhead.

The kid stopped near the river while the moon shone from the opposite bank. He looked into the dark waters and then up again at the night sky, studying the heavens themselves. Hamilton approached him from behind.

"Hey," Hamilton said softly and the boy spun around, surprised.

"Uh... S-sir!" The kid saluted and then dropped his hand, embarrassed at the situation and at his own foolishness.

"You're Basil, correct?" Hamilton asked walking closer, studying the kid.

"Y-yes Sir, Basil O'Leary, and you're Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton."

"You're Irish? But I didn't tell you my name." Hamilton raised an eyebrow and looked up, noting the boy's fine curly read hair, pale complexion, and dotted freckles. The moonlight illuminated both of them and Hamilton could swear the boy's eyes were a blue color. The color of the sea. The color of the Caribbean. 

"No, Sir. I just knew."

Hamilton nodded and smiled slightly, asking, "How old are you?"

"17 years of age, Sir." The boy shifted uncomfortably.

The 22 year old Hamilton appeared to think and stepped closer, asking in a soft voice, "Why did you leave your friends?"

The boy was still nervous and answered, "I don't like their jokes sometimes."

"You mean about women?" Hamilton clarified.

"I don't mind when they talk about it- I like listening to them -I just don't always want to be included."

"Why is that?"

"I..." The boy appeared unable to answer and he turned around toward the blackened and bubbling water, putting his hands over his face.

Hamilton came up behind him and whispered, "What's wrong?" The boy didn't answer; His shoulders slumped heavily and Hamilton reached out and brought the boy's hand down so he could look him in the eyes.

"Tell me," Hamilton soothed, still holding the boy's hand in his own. It was warm and the boy wrapped his fingers around Hamilton's.

The boy looked up and his breathing quickened. The moonlight caught on his eyes. They were blue.

"I'm not sure if I would like being with a woman... that is, I don't know, I've never been with one, but I haven't felt it like the other men have. It makes me feel odd... it makes me feel left out. When they ask me about it, I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. Sometimes I just want to run away." The kid was rambling and Hamilton nodded his head with understanding, still gripping the boy's hand.

"What do you feel like?" Hamilton prodded and stepped even closer, his eyes on the boy's eyes, face, and then lips. The boy inhaled and his eyes went wide. 

"What do you want?" Hamilton asked again as the boy swallowed heavily. Hamilton's eyes were deep and dark and they pierced him through.

"Do you want me?" Hamilton asked finally stepping into the boy and the he nodded, not able to take his eye's from Hamilton's.

Hamilton cupped the red-headed cherub's cheek and kissed him deeply. The boy kissed back, tentatively, inexperienced, and eager all at the same time. His hands went out instinctively and wrapped around Hamilton's waist. Behind them crickets chirped in the night air and the river flowed with a soothing ebullience that quieted the noises coming from camp. They were lost in their own world in that perfect moment in time.

Hamilton pushed the boy back up against a tree and felt his manhood there, bursting beneath his breeches. The boy looked dovelike as Hamilton eyed him with a ravenous gaze and smirked, pressing his own erection into the boy's. He gasped and Hamilton kissed his open and waiting mouth rapaciously. The boy's chest rose and fell rapidly as he was pinned by Hamilton's domination and held by his greedy and searching hands. 

Hamilton slid a hand down the front of the boy's breeches and felt the stiff, throbbing erection waiting there, nestled in fine hair and he grasped it firmly. The boy moaned loudly and Hamilton licked his lips and kissed at the boy's open mouth again, shoving his tongue in. The boy wrapped a hand around the back of Hamilton's neck and bucked into the pleasuring hand. The boy closed his eyes, his face red, and turned away with lust and embarrassment.

Hamilton undid the boy's breeches and slid them down and the boy let out an, "Oh!" as his eyes shot open and his skin hit the night air. The boy could already feel his skin prickle with goose flesh as Hamilton took off his boot and threw it to the ground and then tore off his pant leg completely. Hamilton hastily undid his own breeches and slid them down just below his buttocks, revealing his own hard cock.

The boy looked down and saw Hamilton's ready prick pressing up against him and quivered as Hamilton pressed into him again, mouth hungry and cock sliding against his. When Hamilton rubbed it against his, he moaned louder and felt powerless and at the mercy of the older man. At the same time, he was wracked with desire himself that came from a place he didn't know existed up until now. 

Hamilton spit on his hand and rubbed his own cock multiple times, lubing it up. "I'm going to take you," he growled and the boy nodded, not understanding what Hamilton meant, but longing for his touch. 

Hamilton lifted the boy's bare leg and held it up, nudging his rock hard phallus at the space below the boy's testicles. The head hit the boy's opening and he let out a gasp of realization at what was about to happen, recoiling naturally against the intrusion. "My God," the boy gasped as Hamilton forced himself in and the boy's insides closed around the foreign invasion. Hamilton thrust again and again as the boy's face registered shock while Hamilton kept him pinned back hard against the tree.

"Yes," Hamilton hissed, sucking at the boy's neck and leaving dark marks.

"Holy God," the boy managed to get out, between faltered breaths. 

Hamilton went faster now, picking up the boy's other leg so as to achieve a better angle. The boy's moans heightened as Hamilton grunted against him and some men's laughs drifted in from the direction of the camp.

Hamilton entered the boy hard once, twice, three times, causing him to cry out sharply and Hamilton exploded, his pulsating cock depositing spurt after spurt of his hot seed into the boy. Hamilton's own cry fell off and his hands unwound from the boy's flesh, where they left imprints behind. Hamilton slowly lowered the boy to the ground as his own cock deflated. 

Hamilton dropped to his knees and took the boy in his mouth, which caused a jolt from above. 

"Oh, no, no, no," the boy protested as Hamilton sucked harder and harder, eliciting jerks and spasms from the boy.

"No, you, ah, needn't do this!" The boy called again, body weak against Hamilton's own pressuring. 

The boy shuddered silently and let out another spasm and his seed filled Hamilton's mouth.

Hamilton swallowed all of it eagerly, looking up and grinning.

Hamilton rose and wiped his mouth and did up his pants. He looked at the boy once again and gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking back to the campfire and leaving him behind. 

The boy stood there looking stunned as his body jerked with a spasm again and the night air hit him, bringing forth chills. He slowly gathered his clothes about him.

When Hamilton arrived at the campfire, the men were still drunk and even more so than before. Hamilton planted himself next to Tench again and looked sleepily into the fire.

"You're insatiable," Tench scolded in his ear, "and you smell like sex, you bastard. Go bathe yourself in the river or something. In fact, I'm about ready to dunk you myself."

Hamilton shrugged at the all-too-true accusations and closed his eyes, reclining.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gets into some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This dude is my inspiration for Tench Tilghman: http://imgur.com/a/22ZbU

July - 1777, Washington's Camp

Alexander Hamilton and Tench Tilghman sat together in the mess tent, munching on some slop the cook had concocted that week. Hamilton picked a glob up with his spoon and watched as the grey and yellow mass slid off and hit his mess tin with a sickly sound.

"I can't eat this stuff," Hamilton lamented.

"I don't care if it's yellow; I'm just so hungry." Tench shoved more in his mouth.

"Your appetite is disturbing," Hamilton remarked, grimacing at his friend.

A man they knew as Lieutenant Marcus Denman pushed through the tent flaps, holding his silver tin aloft. He spied the two at the bench and gave a look of recognition. The Lieutenant made his way over and slammed his plate onto the wood table rather unceremoniously. Tench nodded at Marcus between mouthfuls and Hamilton gave a short greeting. Marcus had short, wavy dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He stood a bit taller than Hamilton and was one of the battalion commanders under a general that Hamilton couldn't recall at the moment.

"Gentlemen," Marcus nodded and began to eat.

"You too?" Hamilton asked and Marcus looked up from a bite, confused.

"You can eat that slop?"

Marcus shrugged, smiling.

"When are we going to see some action?" Hamilton complained.

"Soon enough," Tench reminded him, "and then you'll be wishing you hadn't said that."

"I'm not afraid," Hamilton scoffed.

"Sure," Tench gave him a look.

"Washington is riding to Philadelphia soon to petition Congress," Marcus chimed in. "Then afterwards, maybe." He took another bite and chewed deliberately.

"We are sorely lacking the necessary supplies, guns, cannons, and everything else we need," Tench reminded.

"I have faith in the commander," Hamilton added.

Marcus divulged, "I need to write a letter to my sister. She is going to be wondering how the war is going."

"You have a sister?" Tench asked. "Does she look anything like you? Because if so, I'm sorry."

Hamilton burst out laughing and spit the rest of his food out onto his plate while choking and grabbing at his throat. Marcus shook his head and grunted at Tench's joke.

"You have any jokes about Washington while you're at it?" Marcus prodded.

Tench looked around to make sure no one was listening to them and leaned in, whispering, "You know what George Washington calls his penis?" The other two looked at Tench, attentively. "His little general!" Hamilton covered his eyes with a hand and groaned loudly and Marcus gave a snort. "I heard he's even appointed it with it's own command!"

"Just stop," Marcus stated.

"If his penis gets a command before I do I swear..." Hamilton threatened.

"When Washington's at home in Mt. Vernon with Martha, he plans operations for the bedroom and then orders his little general into battle!" Tench continued excitedly, on a roll. "Sometimes George takes on the role of the British and loves to plunder Martha's "fertile" soil!"

"No, just no," Hamilton said, holding his hand up to stop Tench's mouth.

"Why are we talking about Washington's wrinkly old Penis anyway?" Marcus wondered "That's the last thing I want to think about!".

Tench giggled and said, "Hey, it beats thinking about your sister, right?" Hamilton stared daggers at Tench, imploring him to stop.

"Can we please not elaborate on his bedroom life any further?" Hamilton pleaded.

"Oh, I hear there's multiple benefits to having false teeth," Tench added and Marcus rolled his eyes.

"Why so red, Ham?" Tench turned and asked with bemusement as Hamilton shook his head swiftly and then slammed his spoon back down.

"I'm done," Hamilton stated, defeated.

The tent flap opened and a figure stood at the entryway looking awkward. All three men looked up at the new arrival and Hamilton noted that it was the red-head from last night. Hamilton looked away and Tench went back to joking while Marcus continued eating. Basil hovered in the entryway, looking around the mess tent for a friendly face. He proceeded to walk down the middle of the aisle and then stopped in front of the table with the three officers. Marcus craned his head around to look at who it was while Hamilton and Tench looked up. Tench motioned with his hand for the kid to keep moving and shot him a hard stare while Hamilton went back to eating nonchalantly. The figure deflated and fidgeted with his free hand before turning and leaving to eat at the other end of the tent.

Tench jabbed his elbow into Hamilton's side and hissed, "Look what you've done now! He's following you around like a puppy dog."

"Huh?" Marcus asked, confused while Hamilton let out a dismissive snort and shrugged.

"What's going on?" Marcus accused. "Who was that private?"

"No one," Tench exclaimed loudly and with just a little bit of annoyance. "Let's just say that Alexander here likes to "help out" those less fortunate than him, when he really should be focusing his attentions elsewhere."

Hamilton continued to eat while acting aloof and ignored Tench's accusations. Marcus let out a, "Huh," and then dropped the subject.

***************

Private O'Leary pulled the wool blanket up over his body as he laid on the cot in his tent. He looked over at the empty space on the other side of him and noted that his tent-mate was still sleeping in the sick tent after he fell ill a day or two prior. The night had fallen and it was quiet outside, except for the chirp of crickets, the slight wind in the trees, and the low sound of men talking around a campfire. Basil turned over in his cot and pulled the blanket tighter. It was still summertime and the nights were warm, but he craved the secure feeling of being bundled in the wool. It reminded him of home, the small house and farm that his parents from Ireland took after they married, having met on the long voyage over. His life had been simple, but good throughout the years. He loved working with his father outside during the summers when the harvest came; he loved going to the small school house to learn about the world he had never seen or never known; he loved his little brother who sported the same curly red hair and freckles as him. His brother was always sickly but his internal fire shone bright as the stars at night. His parents spoke to him about why they had left Ireland in the first place and when the British fist tightened around them again, he knew he had to do something; he knew he had to fight. He left that fateful day with a small pack on his back after saying goodbye to his brother, who laid sickly in bed. His parents watched him sadly from their door as he trudged off through green fields and over hills until he made it to the town and to where the continental army recruiter was. He had never loved anyone in his life except his brother and his parents, so he told himself that he couldn't die now. He had to come back to them. He wished he could love another person as much as he loved them.

His mind turned to Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton, the dashing officer that was known throughout their army as Washington's premiere aide-de-camp. He was also known by all to be fiercely intelligent, daring, handsome, and bold. It was said that Washington hand-picked him after he turned down employment by other generals. The enlisted men often talked about Washington's core group of officers and stories and rumors swirled constantly throughout their campfires at night. Basil heard these stories and imagined a heroic figure, like those of the Greek legends taught to them in school and he daydreamed of what that kind of person would be like. The first time he saw Hamilton, his breath caught. Could that really be him? The young man with fierce eyes, neatly pulled-back hair, and smooth face? Then Hamilton spoke and Basil felt himself lost in those words of his; his quick wit and charm made Basil's head swirl with images only he dreamed of in his deepest thoughts. His heart leapt with the possibility of things to come. Hamilton made those things come to life in front of him.

Hamilton had followed him that night and Basil turned to face him, longing for home, longing for an embrace, and needing to be loved and wanted. Hamilton touched him and his body trembled. Basil wanted to give himself over to Hamilton and he wanted to show his devotion to the fierce officer. Hamilton touched him in places he had never felt before and pain mixed with pleasure, but all he wanted to do was to please the man he had dreamed about for so long. He didn't know his body could respond in that way to another, man or woman. He didn't know and he was confused. Why had Hamilton sought him out? Did he love Basil? Is that what love meant? His face burned with embarrassment as he recalled the way Hamilton brought him to the brink and then over with his lips and tongue. He couldn't imagine another person doing that for him. Why did he deserve that kind of attention? All he wanted was to give everything he had to another. He didn't deserve it back. Who was he? Nobody. He wasn't an officer, he wasn't intelligent, he wasn't eloquent, and he didn't have many friends either.

His tent flap rustled quietly in the night and he looked up, expecting to see his tent-mate come back from being sick. He squinted and his eyes adjusted in the darkness as he saw the figure of Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton standing there. Basil's mouth dropped open in astonishment and his heart quickened. Hamilton put a finger over his mouth and whispered, "Shhhh." Basil closed his gaping mouth.

"I saw you looking at me today," Hamilton announced in a low voice and came over, pulling the wool blanket off of Basil, who slept in his small clothes. Hamilton climbed on top of him and began to explore his body with searching hands and a hungry mouth. Basil couldn't believe what was happening. Was this real? Was this a dream? Hamilton came up and kissed Basil hard on the mouth, his tongue prodding Basil's mouth open and exploring the inside.

The cot squeaked loudly with each movement and Basil said with a fright, "Someone could hear us!"

"Let them; I don't care," Hamilton warned, pulling down Basil's underthings. Hamilton pulled the night shirt off of the red-headed boy's body and trailed kisses down the smooth freckled chest. The boy's nipples stood on end and his manhood hardened beneath Hamilton. A manhood he didn't know what to do with; a sign of a growing body he didn't feel comfortable in.

"Oh!" The boy let out a gasp, unused to the feeling of another's hands on him.

Hamilton tore off the rest of the boy's small clothes and grinned at the sight beneath him. He undid his own breeches and let loose his hard cock, stroking it with a hand. The boy looked wide-eyed at the sight before him. What would Hamilton do to him this time? Would he enter him in the same way as before? It was painful, but he wanted to please the older officer. If he could please him, then Hamilton would come back to him. Maybe Hamilton would love him?

Hamilton took a small vile from his pocked and rubbed some of the viscous liquid on his hand. He then reached down to the boy's stiff cock and took it. "Oh!" The boy said again, jumping slightly. White fluid leaked profusely from the tip of his penis. Basil wished it wouldn't do that.

Hamilton stroked and the boy arched his body. "Ah!" He cried out and the sound echoed through the tent. Hamilton had a lustful and powerful expression on his face as he shook more ointment onto his hand and then rubbed it up and down his own cock. The boy liked watching Hamilton touch himself, but he felt a growing trepidation. He wanted so badly to be able to do things right, but he didn't know how. Would Hamilton like his body? The officer wouldn't look at him today in the mess tent, so what did that mean? Had he performed poorly last night? Could he do better tonight?

Hamilton shook out more ointment and curled a finger against the boy's hole. "Ah!" The slight touch from Hamilton's finger sent a wave of shock through the boy and also a tingling feeling that spread out through his whole body. "Does it have to go there?" The boy asked, scared.

"Shhh," Hamilton replied, mischievously. "Yes, it does."

"Oh, alright then."

Hamilton pushed his finger in and felt the tight ring constrict around his finger. The boy's body shook.

"You like this, don't you?" Hamilton asked and the boy nodded.

"Where else would you like it to go?" Hamilton asked. "Here maybe?" He stuck his other fingers in Basil's mouth and pushed them in hard, choking him. The boy looked wide-eyed again at the intrusion on two fronts.

Hamilton chuckled and removed his fingers. "Turn over," he commanded and the boy scurried to do so.

Hamilton took him hard by the hips and entered him from behind. The boy gasped and tried to remove himself from the rod that was impaling him, but Hamilton held him there firmly and continued to thrust.

The boy cried out and there were sounds that came from outside the tent as the cot squeaked loudly in the night.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Hamilton asked with a ragged breath.

Another thrust and the wind felt knocked out of the boy's lungs. He nodded, his eyes welling up with tears.

"Good, I'm glad to see you're so eager for my shaft."

Hamilton thrust again, harder. The boy was so tight and his nether lips so pink and plump that he shook as he imagined filling the boy with his seed.

"Touch yourself," Hamilton commanded, grabbing the boy's hand and guiding it to his own need.

"How?" The boy asked, gasping again from another strong thrust. Each time Hamilton entered him fully, he shuddered as waves of pain and pleasure radiated from the source. His body was covered with sweat and his hair was matted. His arms felt weak against the assault from behind.

"Like this," Hamilton held the boy's hand and closed it tight around the exposed prick. He then made a jacking motion with both of their hands together and the boy trembled.

"That feels really good," the boy said and Hamilton smirked.

Hamilton looked down and took both of the cheeks in his hands, spreading them apart. He loved the sight of his cock entering that pink, puckered hole and he let out a, "Yes," between clenched teeth. He picked up the pace and could hear a squelching sound his dick made as it entered the well-oiled hole. "Ah God..." He said again. Faster, harder, deeper. The boy moaned loudly as Hamilton's ball sack made a loud slapping sound against the boy's backside. Hamilton practically picked the boy up and shoved him down on his full cock as he climaxed, eyes clenched shut tight, teeth gritting, and a shout escaping from his lips. He could feel the salty waves pour forth in great spurts and fill the boy up. The dam broke and those waves spread from where they were deposited and ran down Hamilton's balls and thighs.

The boy convulsed and heaved. "I-I don't know what happened; I didn't do anything!" He raised a hand covered with his own seed.

Hamilton gave a knowing snort and pulled out slowly, savoring the view of the thick, milky fluid seeping forth. He pulled his foreskin forward and simultaneously wiped off the remnants. Hamilton buttoned his breeches expertly and got up from the cot, where the boy lay sprawled and covered in seed. The boy looked back at him weakly as Hamilton walked out of the tent.

Once outside, Hamilton closed the flap behind him. A soldier across the way perked up at his exit and then quickly looked away.

Hamilton made his way back to the house that the officers stayed in and he climbed into bed. Tench slept across the room in another bed and he turned his head when Hamilton came it. Hamilton shed his outer layers in the dark and climbed into bed, content, but exhausted.

"Again?" Tench whispered accusingly in the dark. Hamilton answered him by turning and facing the other way.

A pillow sailed through the air and hit Hamilton in the back. Hamilton lifted his head and looked over, grabbing and scrunching up the foreign pillow.

"Are you going to teach me how you can snag so many willing volunteers?"

Hamilton threw the pillow back and Tench caught if deftly. Hamilton shooed him off and turned back over.

Tench's feet hit the floorboards and they creaked as Tench got up and came over to Hamilton's bed. Tench squatted there and whispered, "Ham, in all seriousness, be careful, alright?"

Hamilton turned at the concern in his friend's voice and looked up at the large crouched man, studying his face.

"Thanks, Tench," he replied.

Tench cast another sidelong worried glance and got back up to return to his bed.

********************

"Everyone out, now!" Washington roared from the door frame.

The entire room looked up from their quills, eyes opened wide like deer. There was a pause of shock that registered throughout the group as they saw Washington's angry, broad figure looming in the doorway . Then all at once, there was a quick scramble and the group began to hastily gather their things to leave.

Alexander Hamilton felt the same dreaded feeling that the rest of them felt and he started to get up too. Washington pointed at him and barked, "Not you!" Alexander trembled; he had never seen Washington so angry before and his stomach fell out.

Washington's dark eyes stayed glued to Hamilton while the rest of Washington's aides filed out, almost fleeing. Tench looked over at Hamilton with great concern on his face. He wanted to stay and support his friend, but knew he couldn't. Hamilton sat back down at his desk and looked away, fidgeting.

The last man exited the house and closed the door softly when Washington erupted, "Get up, now!" Hamilton jumped up and spun to face his commander, going to a position of attention.

"What were you thinking?" Washington asked, furious. Alexander felt his hands shaking. He had never witnessed Washington this angry at anyone, let alone him, before.

"Well?" Washington prompted, his eyes blazing holes through Hamilton.

"I..." Hamilton could feel his whole body shaking. He was suddenly that little boy in the Caribbean again, the little boy his father beat when he came home drunk. Alexander felt weak; Alexander felt powerless.

Alexander's inability to answer left a silence that was filled by Washington's continuing rage.

"Do you know what has been brought to my attention?"

Hamilton swiftly shook his head.

Washington stepped toward Alexander until he was towering over him.

"I hear you've been fornicating with the enlisted troops!"

Alexander swallowed hard, his heartbeat loud in his chest and his ears surging with the sound of his own blood.

"Well? Is this true?" Washington roared again.

Hamilton dropped his head, not able to look Washington in the eye.

"Answer me now, soldier!" Spittle flew out of Washington's mouth and hit Alexander in the face. He cringed away.

"Yes," Hamilton whispered, barely audible.

Washington turned from Alexander and paced back in forth in front of him, as if thinking of what to say.

"Did I make a mistake when I hired you to my staff?" Washington turned back and asked.

"No, Sir!" Hamilton pleaded, eyes full of concern and fear.

"You must know that this behavior is unbecoming of an officer!" Washington lectured him. "Surely you know!?" Hamilton stayed silent, head bowed in shame.

"Do you know how intolerable it is for me to have to hear these kinds of rumors about you? We're trying to win a war here! Look at the British army! Are they misbehaving like this?" Washington berated. "They are a professional army!" He exclaimed. "We must also be professional if we are to win this war!"

"Yes, Sir," Hamilton whimpered with great humiliation, his head still lowered.

"What if you have to lead men into battle someday?" Washington asked and Hamilton perked up. "How can you lead men when you're screwing them instead? Do you think they will want to follow someone like you?" Washington poked a finger in Alexander's chest and any momentary elation he felt about the notion of leading fell away in an instant. "Men need to look up to you! You need to build a barrier between them and you. You need to be a deity in their eyes. Someone untouchable! Someone damn well unfuckable!"

Hamilton recoiled, hurt and stunned. Someone like him? What was that supposed to mean? Hamilton wondered wildly.

Washington went quiet, but it was clear he was still fuming.

"I had high hopes for you," Washington started again.

Here it was, the moment Alexander was sure he was going to be dismissed from Washington's staff. He braced for it.

"Why do you try your best to prove me wrong?" Washington accused again.

"P-please don't let me go, Sir!" Alexander wasn't above begging, that he was sure of.

"I very well should!" Washington bellowed.

Washington took a great, deep breath in and then exhaled loudly. Alexander's heart thundered. He was sure Washington could hear it now too.

"I don't care what you choose to do with other officers in your own free time, but I *never* want to hear about you fraternizing with enlisted again. Or you're done! Do you hear me?"

Alexander nodded hurriedly, his eyes stinging, afraid that at any moment Washington would rescind his offer of leniency. Washington looked Alexander up and down with his mouth drawn into a grim line.

"Do both of us a favor," Washington demanded, barking, "and go find yourself a damn woman!"

Alexander nodded again swiftly, eager to make any reparations he could.

"I'm leaving for Philadelphia tomorrow, as you know, and I had better not hear of this matter again when I get back!"

Washington turned, looking like he still had more to say, but he gave Hamilton a once over and then stormed from the room and out the front door. Hamilton slowly sat back down on the bench and hunched over the paper he had been writing. His arms curled around him, as if trying to protect himself and he stared at the paper, the words blurring in front of him from his tears.

Outside, Tench Tilghman waited by the door. He had heard every single word shouted through those thin walls and he saw Washington storm out of the house in front of him. Tench jumped in surprise, throwing up an arm to salute the passing general, who ignored him. Tench ran inside, only to find Hamilton silent and hunched over his table, shoulders shaking. Tench walked up carefully behind his friend and then slowly sat down next to him, straddling the bench and facing Hamilton. He could see that Hamilton's face was pained.

"I'm sorry Alex," he soothed. Hamilton didn't answer.

Tench studied his friend's face and finally Hamilton replied, "It's not your fault." He sighed, wiping away tears. "You know well enough that I brought this upon myself."

"Still," Tench interjected, "I sympathize."

"No, you were right, Tench. I should have listened to you." Hamilton put his face in his hands.

"Aw, come on, I'm not anyone to listen to." Tench nudged him.

"But you seem to have more sense than I."

Tench shrugged, unable to argue the logic. Finally he insisted, "Forget the rest of this work for now." Tench gathered up the papers and other materials, stowing them in a neat pile. "You need to relax and have some fun. Forget about this whole ordeal."

"That's the last thing I need," Hamilton snorted.

"No, come on, we're going to the tavern. You and me. We're doing this. We're going." Tench urged him. "You're getting up from this bench and we're leaving." Tench picked Hamilton up into a standing position and Hamilton began to smile. "Now we're walking out of the door. Oh! That's what I like to see!" Tench flashed a grin at Hamilton's softening face. "Let's go, friend." Tench pushed him towards the door.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander... goes straight? Kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning for het.

August - 1777, A Tavern in Town near Washington's Camp

Alexander Hamilton and Tench Tilghman sat on a wooden bench in the tavern with their backs up against the wall. Tench took a swig of his ale and nudged Hamilton, nodding his head at two women across the tavern. 

"They've been eyeing us," Tench pointed out.

"So they have," Hamilton replied, sipping his own ale.

"Do you think they are going to come over here?" Tench asked nervously. "Or should we go to them?"

"Let them come to us," Hamilton smirked. 

The women glanced over at their table again and giggled while drinking from their own mugs. Plenty of men were circling the two women that night and they seemed to be laughing off every feeble attempt at wooing them. Hamilton knew that the women had higher standards and, of course, the higher standards were them. A nervous, skinny, and disheveled looking Private approached the women and they laughed out loud. Loud enough for the whole tavern to hear. This made Hamilton smile.

"You're going to help me tonight, right?" Tench reminded Hamilton. "You've always been good at this kind of thing, so I want to know how you do it."

"Of course, just relax," Hamilton patted Tench. "That's the first lesson. If you appear nervous, women can sense that and will run."

"Second," Hamilton turned to Tench, "confidence. Chin up." Hamilton's index finger poked Tench under the chin, lifting it."

"Third, smile. You've got those pretty blue eyes, so use them to your advantage," Hamilton commanded.

Tench took a big breath and echoed Hamilton's teachings, "Relaxed, confident, smiling."

"Here they come," Hamilton whispered and Tench straightened up.

The women stopped in front of their table, hovering with coy smiles on their faces.

"Ladies, may we be of service?" Hamilton said smoothly. They giggled and looked at each other.

"You're officers, aren't you?" One asked shyly.

"Of course," Tench piped up, leaning forward and showing off a huge, dashing grin.

The women giggled again and asked, "May we sit with you?"

"Be our guests," Hamilton drawled. 

Much to Tench's surprise, the women slid in next to each of them rather than sitting across from them. Hamilton mused to himself that they must have picked who they wanted from across the way. Tench grinned at the turn of events and quickly tried to put on a suave demeanor. 

"May we ask your names, ladies?" Tench asked.

"Margaret," the brunette next to Tench replied. "Vivian," the red head next to Hamilton said.

"And you're Colonel Hamilton," Vivian giggled.

Tench looked surprised and interjected, "And I'm Tench Tilghman!" Margaret giggled.

The four continued to drink and Hamilton looked around the packed tavern as Vivian hung off of his shoulder. He hoped that this would get back to Washington. He would do anything to keep from being let go.

Sometime later, the four were ready to leave. "Will you come back to our camp with us? We have our own bedrooms," Hamilton asked, not being discreet about his intention.

The women laughed drunkenly and Vivian said, "Lead the way."

The four arrived at the house that Washington and his aide-de-camps stayed in and Hamilton whispered in Tench's ear, "I'm going to take Washington's bedroom."

"Wait, what?" Tench sputtered. "Are you mad?"

"He's not here," Hamilton shrugged, "and besides, would you prefer a show?"

"Huh, I guess not," Tench gave in, but then reiterated, "Damn it. Be careful, Ham. If Washington finds out..."

"He's not going to find out, unless you tell him." Hamilton shot Tench a glare.

Hamilton led Vivian to the room at the top of the stairs and closed the door behind him. He went over to the nightstand and lit the wick on the candle and then turned to see Vivian spinning nervously. Hamilton sat on the edge of Washington's bed and patted his knee, saying, "Come here and sit with me." She walked over slowly and then sat on his lap. His arms were around her in an instant and he nestled his face in the back of her hair and planted kisses on her neck.

"Oh!" She said, surprised while his grip remained firm.

"Let me help you with these," Hamilton said while untying the back of her dress. She stood up and slipped out of the garment and Hamilton began to undo his own clothes, while looking at her from the bed. She shivered in her nakedness and he smiled at her, tracing her soft, fine, red public hair with his eyes.

Hamilton had to admit to himself that sometimes he longed for the company of a woman. They were soft to the touch and he liked the way their bodies felt against his: round, smooth, and delicate. Intercourse with women also seemed to be a little bit easier and took a lot less preparation. He found women rather easy to seduce, and frankly, when he was this horny, he would take what he could get.

Hamilton pulled Vivian toward him and put his mouth on her breast. The nipple hardened beneath his tongue and Vivian let out a gasp. He took the other breast in his hand, fondling it.

Vivian seemed rather aroused and she pushed Hamilton back on the bed. He grinned lustfully at her sudden change and she jumped on him, straddling him. She lowered herself onto his hard cock and he was pleased to find it went in so easily. She bounced on top of him and he felt mesmerized by her lush cleavage. He tried to remind himself to be gentle with her and to take it slow.

They made love for some time and at some point, Hamilton wondered how Tench was doing with the brunette in the other room. Hamilton rolled over on top of Vivian and they both continued as their lust and desire grew. Each stroke seemed to bring her closer and closer to the edge and he could feel himself about ready to climax. He closed his eyes and was enveloped by the feeling of sheer bliss.

"Finish inside me," She begged, wrapping her legs around his hips and back.

Hamilton was nearly lost in his mounting climax, but managed to hoarsely get out a, "No!"

He tore himself from her body as his seed came pouring forth and he smugly noted that quite a lot ended up on Washington's linens. In the back of his mind, his retaliatory side was elated at showing such clear impertinence for Washington. You wanted me to sleep with a woman? Well, here you go, he thought snidely. Enjoy.

Part of him was also annoyed that he had to worry about a side effect such as pregnancy, which this woman clearly wanted to inflict upon him in hopes of trapping him in a marriage. 

He wasn't so annoyed as to not finish his partner, so he bent down to her mound and slid his fingers into her juicy hole and took her womanhood in his mouth. She wrapped her legs around his shoulders and grabbed him by the hair, finishing loudly. He came up, gasping for air and wiped off his slick, wet face with his sleeve. 

Hamilton then collapsed into the defiled bed with her and she wrapped herself around him.

That morning they fucked again until he realized what time it was.

"I need to go," he said hastily as Tench pounded on his door, reminding him of their prior engagement. Vivian pouted as she put her clothes back on and Hamilton asked if she needed an escort. 

"No, Margaret and I will be fine," She said airily, trying not to look hurt.

Tench gave Hamilton a raised eyebrow at the door and mentioned, "You'll be cleaning up this room later."

"Yes, of course," Hamilton assured him. 

"Come on," Tench urged. "We need to get clean ourselves before we go."

The two men took their hygiene kits down to the river and started to strip, laying their clothes out on stumps and over branches.

Despite the already warm day, Hamilton hit the water and gave out a hoot.

"Oh God, don't look at me! It's so shriveled and small right now," Hamilton implored Tench.

"How is that any different than normal?" Tench asked, also appearing frozen as he dipped himself into the river. Hamilton shot him a scowl.

"So?" Hamilton asked in a long and drawn-out fashion.

"It was magnificent; I really needed that. What about you?"

Hamilton gave a nonchalant shrug and said, "She tried to get me to impregnate her."

"What?" Tench's face and eyes went wide. "Ha! You have the worst luck sometimes," Tench remarked, shaking his head.

"Well, that would certainly help my case in Washington's eyes."

"You really are a scoundrel."

The men dressed and after depositing their things, they walked toward the mess, chatting animatedly. Hamilton and Tench grabbed some biscuits and left for the stables, chewing them along the way, cognizant of their deadline. 

The red-headed Private that got Hamilton into so much trouble stepped forward as the two walked by. Hamilton and Tench were lost in conversation and didn't notice Basil until they were almost on top of him. Hamilton jumped back, startled and when he recognized who it was, his face turned hard.

"Sir! Can I please speak to you?" Basil besought. Hamilton shook his head no with a glare, and turned away, eager to be away from the young Private.

Basil started to trail behind Hamilton until Tench put himself between the two with folded arms, giving the Private a stoic look. "Look, get out of here kid! Don't come around again!" Basil looked horrified, which is eyes conveyed perfectly. Hamilton walked away from him quickly, wishing to put distance between the two.

"Go!" Tench yelled again and gave the kid a shove. This snapped him out of it and he turned and fled.

Tench turned back to catch up with Hamilton and gave his head a little shake, saddened at what he had to do. There was one thing he was sure of, he wouldn't lose his friend over such a matter.

Hamilton sighed and whispered a thanks.

They arrived at the stable and saddled their horses, eager to be off to New York City

*************

Alexander and Tench returned to Washington's camp five days later. Washington still wasn't back from his trip to Philadelphia, but he was expected very soon. It was the beginning of August and Hamilton craved action. He hated waiting around for something to happen, while he sat there feeling trapped. He knew they needed more guns and supplies to wage war and he knew that Washington's trip to Philadelphia was instrumental in trying to secure those, but at the same time he wanted them to just attack, proper supplies or not. Hamilton had already engaged in skirmishes as a part of his own company and he prayed that accepting Washington's offer didn't mean that his life would stall at the same time. 

He could hear the men practicing off in the field and he wondered when Washington would secure that Prussian commander he always talked about to train them? The British had already enlisted their own German mercenaries and they desperately needed to fight fire with fire here or risk losing this war, and badly. 

The night closed in and Hamilton squinted at his letter beneath the candlelight. Marcus Denman had joined the group after dinner, writing out his own letter to his sister, while the others finished various papers and correspondences from Congress while Washington was away.

Hamilton sighed and looked up, realizing most of the group had finished and went off to bed. Tench was actually snoring softly next to him and Marcus stayed focused on his own writing until he saw Hamilton look up.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Marcus whispered.

"About what?" Hamilton's eyes narrowed.

"About Washington."

"Oh," Hamilton looked away.

"You know, there are other ways to... find some relief," Marcus piped up again.

"Is that so," Hamilton looked down at his paper, not wanting to be lectured by anyone else.

"Sure," Marcus bit the end of his quill.

The tone of Marcus' voice made Hamilton look up and he saw that Marcus was giving him a long look. Hamilton glanced down and saw Marcus run his hand down and cup the bulge in his pants, while still staring at him.

Hamilton put his quill into the ink pot and straightened up, looking Marcus in the eye, trying to discern his intentions.

"Want to find out?" Marcus asked seductively.

Hamilton thought about it for a second and felt worried. Would Washington be approving of this? Would he find out? Marcus was an officer. Did Washington really mean what he had said about officers? Hamilton felt his blood flow and he realized he was starting to get hard at the thought.

"Let's go," Hamilton assented, nodding upstairs, suddenly feeling ravenous.

He got up and went over to wake the sleeping Tench. "Hey!" Hamilton shook him. Tench snorted awake and Hamilton said, "You're taking Washington's bed tonight."

"Ew, no, gross!" Tench protested.

"I'm warning you!" Hamilton threatened.

"What if he comes back tonight?" Tench persisted.

"Then he has a nice surprise waiting for him, now doesn't he?" Hamilton patted Tench's cheek. Tench let out an exasperated noise and looked like he wanted to strangle Hamilton. 

"If Washington dismisses me for sleeping in his bed, I'm going to kill you."

"If you do that, I'm going to haunt you." Hamilton waved at Tench sweetly while he walked towards the stairs.

Tench glared at Marcus as he followed Hamilton looking pompous.

They got into Tench's and Hamilton's shared room and Marcus came upon Hamilton in the dark, kissing him.

"If I had known you were so desperate to fornicate that you would go after Privates, I would have offered myself up a lot sooner," Marcus said. Hamilton kissed him again to shut him up.

"Take off everything," Marcus commanded and Hamilton threw his coat on the floor and then slid his shirt off over his head. Marcus looked like he was salivating at the sight of Hamilton's bare chest and he watched Hamilton kick off each boot and then unbuttons his pants while Marcus looked on impatiently. Marcus took off his own jacket, boots, and shirt and then scooped up Hamilton's naked body in his arms, kissing him everywhere.

"I'm going to fuck you," the 27 year old Marcus stated, looking Hamilton up and down like a piece of meat.

"Good."

Marcus pushed Hamilton hard onto the bed and then stood over the sprawled man, removing his breeches. Hamilton gasped at the sight of the other man's rather large cock. 

"In the drawer," Hamilton pointed, feeling daunted and insanely turned on.

Marcus oiled himself up and then positioned himself over Hamilton on the bed, holding Hamilton down with one hand. 

He entered quick and hard and Hamilton's face scrunched up. "Ow! Go slower! Holy hell..."

"What's wrong? I thought you wanted all the cock you could get your hands on?"

"I do," Hamilton whimpered.

"Who knew you were such a little slut?"

"Just fuck me."

Marcus slammed him into the wall repeatedly and Hamilton was sure the sound could be heard throughout the whole house.

"Ah!" Hamilton cried out, his body on fire.

Marcus finished as Hamilton scrunched his eyes, his own dick still as hard as a rock. Marcus fell next to Hamilton on the bed and brought him to climax by hand.

"That was... painful, and... so fucking good," Hamilton admitted, his body spent.

***************

"Why are you walking funny?" Tench accused Hamilton the next day.

"Just shut up for once, alright?" Hamilton stared daggers at Tench.

Tench suppressed a laugh and said, "I don't know how you can do it. I really don't."

Hamilton continued to glare when they heard the sound of approaching horses. George Washington rode into camp with his entourage, looking spectacular, as usual. A finely dressed man sat on a grey horse next to Washington, looking thrilled to be there.

"Who's that?" Hamilton squinted and asked.

"Beats me, but he looks French, doesn't he?"

Washington spied Hamilton and Tench over to the side as he got off of his horse and he snapped his fingers at them, motioning them over. Hamilton felt his face burn in remembrance at their parting. The two friends approached just as the finely dressed man was getting down. 

"Alexander Hamilton, Tench Tilghman, meet Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. He's here from France to help us win this war," Washington introduced them.

"Je suis très heureux de faire votre connaissance!" Lafayette said excitedly, taking off his feathered hat and sweeping it into a bow.

"Très heureux!" Hamilton replied, while Tench looked on confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very good at writing het, nor am I interested in it, but Alexander is bi, so it had to be included sometime.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander runs into an old acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the model for a certain someone in this chapter: http://imgur.com/a/8BOEf

1784 - New York City

A couple years had passed since the war was won. They had done it. For Alexander Hamilton, it felt amazing to embark on the journey of shaping their new country. Every day was a new beginning for both him and his nation. His time spent pouring over books had finally paid off as he became a New York lawyer. He was finally using his voice to argue the law in the courtroom and it energized him to enthrall and guide from sheer willpower alone. With every courtroom he convinced, he put a symbolic notch on his belt. His power to persuade worked miracles in this profession, but he still craved more after the excitement of the day had worn off and he laid in bed staring at the dark and barren ceiling with Eliza breathing quietly next to him. 

Something inside him was empty and hollow. He felt himself die when John Laurens died. He fell to the ground and never picked himself back up. Some days were like walking around in a haze. He was looking at his body from the outside and saw himself performing his every day tasks, but his body was dead and his real self floated somewhere in time and space. In this period, he doubled down on his efforts to be a dutiful husband to Eliza. He had no one else to turn to and needed her love and support. Lafayette had returned to Paris, Washington went back to Mt. Vernon, and his other friends returned to their respective homes. All except for John Laurens, who was now lost to him.

His love of Laurens and the death of his dear friend ended the childlike wanderings of his heart as he suddenly felt old and closed-off. He was cordial and friendly, but he never looked at others in the same way again. His nomadic eyes were permanently turned towards the ground. Human compassion and friendliness didn't touch him in the same way and his youthful exploits now felt like the memory of a much different man in a different time and in a different place. He wished he could smile again. He wished he could love again. Eliza noticed the permanent darkness about him and treated him with care and kindness. He repaid her efforts with all the civility and tenderness he could muster. He wanted to treat her right and he wanted to love her. He did love her, he told himself. She doted on him eternally and he smiled at her, taking her hands in his and kissing them, weariness and loss showing at the edges of his eyes.

Alexander gathered his papers together, mind on something else entirely. He was set to meet a client he was to defend. He didn't look to see who or even what the crime was. His body responded automatically as it performed the manual tasks while his mind drifted off to home, his first home, St. Croix. He remembered the endless blue-green sea, the swaying palms, and the sandy beaches. He remembered his mother smiling at him with those warm brown eyes and embracing him with a mother's love. He thought of playing with Ajax as they ran through the town and hopped into a canoe down by the water, paddling as far out as the eye could see, until it was only them and the ocean and each other. They closed their eyes and listened to the lapping of the water on the hull, and the wind and the gulls in flight. Ajax put a warm hand on his chest and said he could feel the beating of Alexander's heart.

Alexander snapped out of his reverie as he arrived at the abode where he was to meet his client. He shuffled with his papers again and walked through the front door. The hallway was dimly lit and he set his jacket and hat on the coat rack and then walked into the drawing room. A man stood there, back turned from him. His short hair shone a copper red color and his clothes betrayed a lower class than Alexander. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off large muscles beneath, and brown breeches. 

Alexander set the notes on the table and began to speak, "I am your lawyer Alexander Hamilton, good Sir, and I am here to represent you against the charges you are accused of. If you'll give me a moment to review my notes; please make yourself comfortable and we shall start presently."

Alexander bent over the table, spreading his documents out and the man turned to face him, slowly. Alexander caught sight of the man's slightly opened shirt, fine red chest hair protruding from it, and Alexander looked up and gasped.

"I know you," Alexander said, his mouth suddenly dry as he stood up.

"Yes," the man confirmed, his face expressionless.

Alexander backed up and blurted out, "I can't defend you. There's a conflict of interest, you must know, and if anyone finds out..." he trailed off.

"Yes, you're bad at hiding things, aren't you?" The man replied stonily, crossing his arms and then walking slowly towards Alexander. "But then again, you never did seem to care for the consequences."

For once, Alexander seemed to be at a loss for words. The tall, freckled, and muscled man approached him and Alexander backed up into the cupboard against the wall. It had been many years since Alexander had seen Basil O'Leary. Once a skinny, awkward boy, he was now a confident, strapping young man that stood taller than Alexander himself.

"Hmmph, look at you," Basil said displeased as he approached Alexander and stood over him.

"Look at... you," Alexander exhaled, stunned at the man's physique. "What is your profession?"

"Profession? Ha! I'm a boxer." Basil flexed, muscles rippling and neck popping. "Is boxer a profession? Or is it just beating other men bloody for fun and money?" Alexander gave a nervous laugh.

"And now the great General Hamilton's come to defend me," Basil waved his finger in a circle at Alexander's direction. "What a turn of events," Basil deadpanned.

"I... I can't defend you."

"Oh? Running away again when the fire gets too hot?"

"Look, I'm sorry," Alexander implored.

Basil snorted again and gave Alexander a deadly look. "Sorry? What was that?" Basil cocked his ear to the side. 

"What I did to you was wrong, I'm sorry."

"What you did to me?" Basil looked angry. "You mean violate my body and use me for your pleasure?"

"Uh..." Alexander looked visibly uncomfortable. "That's- I mean, I'm not- I would never do something like that again."

"You think I care? I don't care what you're like now, I only know that you used me like a piece of meat, an object for your pleasure, and when you were done with me, you threw me away."

"I know; it's complicated; I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that! All I hear are empty promises and false syrupy words from your mouth. No wonder you're a lawyer." Basil turned and snorted.

"My clients don't usually complain about that."

"You defiled me. You took me knowing that I couldn't, or wouldn't, say no."

"Basil, I can't take back what I did!" Alexander looked ready to argue.

"No, but you can make it up to me by defending me! Instead of turning and running like the coward you truly are!" Basil pointed a finger at him. 

"It's not that simple."

"I don't believe any of your excuses. I can't believe there was ever a time when I thought so highly of you! I wish I hadn't fallen under your spell, then I might not have been such easy prey!" Alexander looked ashamed. 

"The way you treated me was infernal," Basil continued drilling him. "Not only did you take me, but then you threatened me! I got to spend the rest of the war watching you strut around and get appointed to a command, all while being Washington's favorite! Now look at you... seeing you again for the first time since the war I have realized how small and sad you really are. I hate you!" Basil shoved Alexander harder into the cupboard, while growling. He turned and started pacing around the room.

"You don't know what it was like for me!" Alexander said angrily. "Washington damn near dismissed me because of what happened and I'm fairly convinced that not only did it hurt my prospects, but it changed how he treated me! I paid for it! I didn't ask Tench to do what he did to you either!"

"Listen to yourself! All you care about is you! Meanwhile, you destroyed me inside! All because of your selfishness and vanity!"

Alexander dropped his head and put it in his hands and mumbled, "I can't undo what I did." He picked his head up, with his eyes wide and spoke, shoving his left hand out towards Basil, "Look, I'm married. I have a wife and a child now! I just want to do what's best for them and for our country, can't you believe that? I don't want to hurt you anymore, or anyone."

"So what? You can't bear to admit to them that you forced yourself upon someone who was barely a man? Or is it that you can't bear to look in the mirror and see your own lecherous face?"

"No! Please, It's not like that. I've loved before. I love others now. I'm not like that. If I could prove that to you, I would. If I could make it up to you, I would," Alexander pleaded.

Basil looked back at him as if he were angry, and thinking. He walked over to Alexander and grabbed him by the arm. Alexander responded by trying to jerk the arm away, but he couldn't break Basil's firm grip.

"You should be taught a lesson and then, and only then, will I consider forgiving you for your trespasses," Basil hissed at him. Alexander pulled harder and Basil pinned him to the cupboard, binding Alexander's other arm. Basil looked Alexander in the eyes with a look that was hardened over the years from action on the battlefield to a harsh life on the streets and in the ring. Basil pressed himself into the other man and Alexander stopped struggling. Basil still had him by both wrists hard as he took a sniff of Alexander's cleanly washed hair and clothes. 

"Hmmph," Basil snorted again. "What a priss."

Basil let Alexander go and he just stood there looking at Basil while rubbing his wrists, rather than trying to get away. 

"Well? Are you going to defend me in court?" Basil asked.

"Yes," Alexander said with uncertainty. 

"And, do you wish to make things right?" Basil asked, leaving his sentence hanging with an element of ambiguity.

Alexander didn't answer.

Basil came upon him again and pushed him back hard. He could see the rapid rise and fall of Alexander's chest coupled with beads of sweat on his brow as Basil exclaimed, "I'm going to fuck you just like you fucked me." Alexander's sharp eyes were like pinpricks focused on Basil as the sunlight hit them.

Basil began to undo Alexander's breeches and soon pulled them down around his ankles. Basil came back up and tore his own shirt off, revealing a perfectly sculpted chest and thick, molded, freckled arms. Alexander felt his breath catch.

"Someone could see," Alexander said with concern.

"You never cared about anyone coming upon you before," Basil glared at him and then picked Alexander up suddenly behind the knees and placed him sitting on the cupboard. 

Basil took off each of Hamilton's shoes and let them drop to the floor. Next, he tore Alexander's breeches from his legs until Alex was naked from the waist down.

"Do you remember how you fucked me against the tree?" Basil asked, placing a firm hand on each of Alexander's thighs and opened them wide. Basil slid in closer and dropped a hand to his own pants and started undoing them. Each button popped open and soon he slid his breeches down around his knees, releasing a thickly veined cock from between his legs.

"Do you remember what you fucked me with?" Basil queried more intensely as he spit on his hand and covered his own fleshy shaft with saliva. Alexander looked hesitant.

"You played nice at first, you gave me those eyes of yours twinkling under the stars, you spoke soft words to me, then you seduced me and took my clothes off, just so you could stick your dick inside of me. In a place no one has or should ever touch. You know who does that? Animals." Basil took Alexander by the thighs and positioned him closer. 

"You knew it would hurt, you knew I would try not to show any pain, you said soothing words and promised me it would all be over soon." Basil's fingers tightened as he lifted Alexander's thighs and spread his legs wider. Alexander's face went bright red at the awkward position and the things Basil proclaimed with each breath.

"You took my prick in your mouth and sucked it, to keep me off-balance and quiet, to mask the pain. Then you left me there covered in your seed, naked, and dirty on the ground." Basil pulled Alexander down and entered him. Alexander scrunched his eyes and felt his toes curl. He felt himself tighten, as if to keep out the intrusion, but that did nothing to stop Basil from pushing his cock deeper and deeper.

"Just like this," Basil said hoarsely. "This is how it felt. One look at your face tells me you know what I mean."

Basil supported each of Alexander's legs as the rest of his body precariously perched on the cupboard. Alexander's hands rested on the cupboard so as to balance his weight, but his eyes stayed glued shut for some time. Basil entered to the hilt finally and kept Alexander there for some moments as he quivered on top of his throbbing erection. Unable to conceal his lust, Basil leaned in and bit at Alexander's neck while releasing a sigh and a moan.

Basil started to hump the tight hole he was fucking and it felt exquisite. Alexander released a gasp and Basil looked up at the slightly parted lips and half opened eyes and he leaned in to smother those lips with his own, while pulling Alexander down on top of him further. Basil started to fuck faster and Alexander let out a yelp and a groan of pleasure mixed with pain. Basil responded with his own throaty calls of bliss while burying his head in the other man's chest.

"Just like this," Basil groaned and reached up to pinch Alexander's hardened nipple through the cloth. He glanced down and saw Alexander's own cock, mast high and rigid like a board and he slammed in harder and harder, sending loud banging noises through the cupboard and wall. The sight of Alexander's cock consumed Basil and he reached down to touch it, holding it firmly in his hand. Alexander threw his head back as he was impaled over and over with Basil's length and girth. 

"I knew you couldn't resist being fucked," Basil stated through his own uttering. "You try to hide it, but you've always been dirty."

"Yes, fuck me!" Alexander finally said through clenched teeth and Basil took him by the waist while still keeping hold of Alexander's cock and fucked harder and harder until Basil climaxed, falling into Alexander in a ragged mess. 

The pounding cock struck Alexander over and over in a certain way until he saw stars, his body completely tensing and shaking around the foreign object. He jerked into the hand around his cock and spilled his seed while crying out loudly. 

Basil was slumped into his shoulder and let Alexander down slowly. The two of them gasped for air until their breathing slowed to something more steady. Basil brought the hand up that had been covered with seed and ran it down the side of Alexander's face, leaving the seed there like a conquering mark.

Basil backed up from Alexander and stood there in all his naked glory. Alexander looked up from where he was bent over and studied the magnificent and slightly scarred body in front of him, feeling a stirring in his loins again. Basil looked back at him and smirked, proclaiming, "You haven't changed, have you? Your eyes tell me everything."

Alexander fumbled for his breeches on the floor and then put them on, attempting to button them again. 

"You're wrong," Alexander retorted, wiping his face with his sleeve. "The ma- the one I loved, the love of my life, died and I haven't enjoyed a sensual touch or other pleasures of the flesh since." He paused. "You've been my first."

"Don't get attached; I'm just using you," Basil shot back, coldly while putting his own clothes back on.

"I'll call on you soon to go over my case," Basil said casually and walked out the door without a backwards glance.

Alexander fell back into a chair and sighed heavily. He realized his heart hurt inside his chest. He could never tell Eliza what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation soon so this may be the last update until sometime next week.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander and Tench's take an excursion to New York City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I'm back from vacation! 
> 
> Please note: this takes place during the time frame that Alexander and Tench are off in New York City (because I didn't feel like writing it then).

End of July- 1777, Washington's Camp

Alexander and Tench began to undress while under the cover of the barn. Tench stripped off his military jacket, while Alexander removed his tell-tale cream-colored breeches. Tucked in their packs were their civilian clothes, which they were to don. Alexander shook out his coat and sniffed it. It smelled a bit musty and he scrunched up his nose. Tench threw his breeches on a nearby bale of hay and stood there naked, hands on hips, airing himself out.

"I realize you're too high and mighty now for those old clothes, but you're going to have to put them on," Tench prodded Alexander. "We can't have the British stopping us because we stand out."

"At least I'm putting clothes on," Alexander remarked.

"Hah!" Tench laughed and stood taller, puffing his chest out.

After dressing, Tench handed their uniforms to a nearby stable boy and instructed him to take them to the officer's lodgings. Alexander patted his black steed down, admiring the sheen of the hide. Tench came up behind him and commanded, "Up you go," while helping the smaller man into the saddle. Tench then climbed onto his horse easily, his large frame unhindered.

The two men trotted off down the road, aware that they would soon be entering enemy territory and hoping that they weren't riding into danger. Washington didn't know they had left, as he was off himself in Philadelphia. Alexander bit at the nail on his thumb worriedly, while thinking about the implications of their journey. Tench soon snapped him out of his trance by mentioning, "We're fine. The other men are picking up our work while we're gone. Since Washington isn't here, there's been considerably less."

"It's not that," Alexander replied. "If we're captured... Washington is likely to kill us before the British can."

"If," Tench reiterated. "Don't think like that. Just be careful. The British troops can tell if you start acting suspiciously."

"Great, now you're giving me advice," Alexander said sarcastically.

"That's what friends do," Tench said seriously.

Alexander paused and then continued, "It's not only that."

"Well? What is it then?" Tench asked, looking over at Alexander.

"If we are captured, it means that we failed. We failed Washington. He needs us, Tench. He could likely lose the war without us."

"Wow, you think of yourself pretty highly, don't you?"

"I'm being serious Tench." Alexander frowned at his friend.

"Alright, you have a point."

"I can't stand the thought of disappointing Washington." Alexander dropped his head.

"Why?" Tench inquired, his eyebrows raised.

Alexander sighed and looked in the other direction, through the copious trees lining the road.

"We don't have to talk about this," Tench offered lightly.

After some moments, Alexander spoke, "I don't rightfully know, to be honest. When I'm around him, I feel like I'm being constantly scrutinized by him. He's always watching me; expecting thing of me. His disappointment makes me feel small and insignificant. I can't stand that feeling. When he's pleased with me, it fills me with joy and pride. He controls my emotions so thoroughly. They feel like they are at his whim, like a string wrapped around his finger. I've never felt this need to please anyone before, that is, never since..." Alexander stopped the thought and trailed off, looking like he didn't wish to elaborate. Tench listened attentively, but prodded no further into the private thoughts of the man beside him.

Alexander changed the subject suddenly. "You shouldn't have done that; you shouldn't have said that to him." The comment seemed to come from thin air and Tench looked over, puzzled.

"Done what? To whom?"

Alexander looked over with a knowing and chiding look, "You know. To the kid."

"That red-headed whelp?"

"Yes, Basil. His name is Basil."

"Oh, so you're on a first name basis now?" Tench mocked.

Alexander looked miffed and Tench continued, "I was there, alright? I heard what Washington said to you and I'll be damned if I'm about to let you get dismissed because of some runt." Tench looked rather angry.

"You were too harsh," Alexander insisted.

"I was harsh enough. It needed to happen. The message had to be sent. He needed to understand that there was to be no further contact with you. You likely wouldn't have done it yourself." Tench pointed the last words like a stab in Alexander's direction. Alexander looked away, his lips drawn and his face dark.

"And you know what?" Tench went on, angrier. "While were at it, how about you learn to stop fornicating with everyone and everything in sight? You can really be insufferable sometimes."

Alexander spun, "Is this really about your concern for me, or do you just wish to shame me for my choice of bedfellows?"

"How about both? Keep your damn cock in your pants, for once!" Tench bellowed.

"This, coming from a man who can't bed a woman to save his life?"

"How dare you..." Tench's face was stony as he rode closer to Alexander, looking like he wanted to strangle him.

"Or..." Alexander said with a cruel face, "Maybe you're jealous for some other reason? If you wanted to fuck, you could have just told me."

Tench's fist flew out and cracked Alexander in the cheek with a solid thud. Alexander looked surprised for a moment before he toppled over the back of his horse and sprawled out onto the ground, groaning. Tench pulled his reins back quickly as his horse gave a shriek and pawed at the ground. Tench jumped off and ran over to Alexander, checking on his friend's physical state.

"God damn you," Tench said huffing with anger. "If you treat people like this, you're going to lose friends fast."

Alexander opened his eyes slowly as he laid on the ground, his hand to the injured cheek, a little blood pooling at the side of his mouth.

"I... deserved that." Alexander gave in with a croak.

"Can't you see that I don't want to lose a friend? You're making it awfully hard, don't you know?" Tench loomed over him. Alexander closed his eyes again and Tench bent down, licking the edge of his sleeve and then pressing it to the corner of Alexander's mouth to soak up the blood.

"Let me see." Tench grabbed Alexander's hand and tried to pull it away from his cheek, but Alexander resisted.

"I said, let me see," Tench reiterated firmly and Alexander gave up. Tench pulled the hand away and saw Alexander's swollen, red cheek.

"You'll be fine," Tench stated gruffly and then sat on the ground next to Alexander.

Tench pulled a couple of pieces of grass from the ground while he and Alexander sat in silence and Tench stewed.

Finally, Alexander spoke up, "I'm sorry."

Tench sighed and proclaimed, "I don't care who you keep company with. I may not get it, but I will always try to support you. That is, unless, you are making poor choices that could affect your career, your friendships, or your health." Tench kept lecturing. "You are mighty hard to like and even harder to keep as a friend. I've gone above and beyond for you, because I see something in you that others may not see. That same something that Washington recognized. As a friend, I'm going to let you know when I see you headed in the wrong direction. At times, we can be blinded by our proximity to the situation."

Alexander nodded and muttered, "Thank you."

"So stop propositioning me and get your ass up," Tench commanded.

Tench stood and grabbed Alexander's free hand and pulled him up. He spun Alexander around and brushed the dirt and leaves from his back and bum, before shoving him in the direction of his horse. They climbed back on their horses and continued riding down the dirt road in silence.

As night drew nearer, the two men pulled their horses off the road and hobbled them near a small creek. They built a small fire and pulled out bread, cheese and dried meat from their packs, eating it as the light grew dimmer in the night sky. The air between them was tense, as the memory of their fight earlier that day prevented them from their normal course of conversation. Alexander pulled his sleeping sack up around him as he stared into the dying embers of the fire. Tench settled near him, taking the other edge of the fire where Alexander could see him through the crackling flames. Alexander stared at Tench's visage through the the wisps of flame and smoke before his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open.

Alexander awoke in the middle of the night, shivering as the Summer heat had changed to an Autumn chill. His breath caught in the air and billowed about him, reminding him of all the heat that was escaping his body. The fire had burnt down and sat silent and dead on the ground. He looked over at Tench, who had his back turned in sleep. Alexander managed to raise himself and hobble over to the other side in his confined position. He knelt and then fell to the ground next to Tench's back. Heat radiated from the larger man and Alexander struggled to keep from shaking as he pressed himself up against Tench. He rested his face on the warm figure next to him as he felt his sore cheek and nose start to lose their chill. Tench didn't move. Alexander wondered if the other man was awake, but soon, Alexander was back asleep.

They approached New York City the next day in the afternoon. Tench and Alexander could see British troops moving about, lining the streets, and guarding posts at various points in the city. Alexander took a deep breath and Tench reminded him, "Steady."

"Where are we going, Ham?" Tench asked as they rode forward.

"You will see shortly," Alexander replied.

The two men approached a British checkpoint and a stern looking man in a red coat stopped them with a raised hand.

"Where are you two going?" The red coat soldier inquired.

"Into the city, to partake of its services. Especially the tavern." Alexander inclined his head and winked. The British officer didn't seem to be amused.

"Show me your papers," he ordered.

Alexander and Tench glanced at each other while reaching into their coats and pulling out parchments. The British officer grabbed them and squinted at the yellowed paper. He looked up over the edge and stated, "Jeremiah Sloan, legal consul, and James Hall, saddle maker?" The two men on horse nodded.

"Quite an odd pair," the British officer scoffed, handing back the papers. He squinted at them for a bit while Alexander shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, trying not to let his nervousness show. Finally the British officer stated, "You may be off."

Alexander held his breath with his chest puffed out until they were past the checkpoint and then he released it.

"Well, we made it," Tench concluded.

The two men stabled their horses and paid the overseer for care and watering of the horses as they made their way into the city by foot. They rounded a corner and Tench glanced in a window which had mannequins on display with smart attire. Across the top of the window was painted, "Mulligan's Finery."

"Here," Alexander motioned, pointing at the shop and stepping through the door, which rang the attached bell. Tench followed through behind and took off his hat as he stepped indoors.

A man with a tailor's apron, who was hunched over a work desk, sat at the back of the shop. He had a needle sticking out of his mouth, a tape measure in one hand, and fabric in another.

*Ahem* Alexander cleared his throat and the tailor stopped, turning. When the tailor spied who his guests were, he shot up from the bench with outstretched arms.

"Oh my!" The tailor yelled excitedly, rushing out from behind the counter and embracing Alexander. He looked over at Tench and also threw the big man a hug.

"Revolution is here, my brothers!" The tailor exclaimed, whispering with excitement, squeezing each shoulder with his hands, and glancing around, as if someone may be listening.

Alexander beamed. "Tench Tilghman, this is Hercules Mulligan. His family sponsored me when I came to New York. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for him. Mulligan, Tench here is one of my fellow aide-de-camps under General Washington."

"I'm so proud to meet a fellow revolutionary!" Mulligan took Tench's hand and shook it vigorously. He remembered he still had the needle in his mouth and spit it out into his hand and then sat it down on a counter.

Tench smiled and said confusedly, "But, you're just a tailor."

"Ah, ah, ah!" Mulligan wagged his finger. "I would have you know that I am a premiere member of the Sons of Liberty! We fight the British whenever and wherever strikes our fancy! I also conduct spying operations, as the British do need my tailoring services to continue looking so pompous and refined!" Tench laughed at this.

"I trust this man with my life," Alexander chimed in. "We're in good company, Tench."

Mulligan perked up. "What this bruise on your face, Ham?"

Alexander turned red and tried to make up an excuse, "Oh, nothing." Tench shuffled his feet next to him and looked around at the tailoring material.

"I have some powder to cover it. Would you like some?" Mulligan clasped his hands together.

"I'll be fine." Alexander said dismissively, still embarrassed.

"Oh, maybe this will help my chances with the women?" Mulligan chuckled and Tench looked back, a smile on his face.

"Our Ham is quite the charmer, is he not?" Mulligan stated while gently patting the injured cheek.

"Let me tell you, Tench," Mulligan turned and said in a friendly manner, taking the other man by the arm, "old Alex and I used to be able to drink anyone under the table!"

"Is that so?" Tench eyed Alexander suspiciously. Alexander shrugged.

"But, first!" Mulligan proclaimed. "You two look like beggars in rags. Let's fix that, shall we?" Alexander nodded vigorously.

Hercules Mulligan began by taking the measurements of both Tench and Alexander. He pulled some existing clothes that were close to their sizes and compared the complimentary shades in front of the mirror. Once he found the perfect match, he worked on making them the proper fit for both men and toiled on into the night, until he was finally finished.

"Well! You both look well enough to go to the tavern, I should say!" Mulligan quipped, admiring his handiwork.

"I thought you'd never ask," Alexander sighed. "I could use a drink. All these British around make me feel on edge!"

"Then away we go!" Mulligan guided the other two out the door and into the night.

The three men walked into a tavern labeled, "The Royal Arms" and took a look around. It was loud and cheery and there were various sorts around, including a couple of British soldiers playing cards at a gambling table.

"So, not a sympathetic establishment, I take it?" Alexander whispered in Mulligan's ear.

Mulligan shrugged. "You can never be sure, but it is a fine place for a drink and something to fill the belly. Best to keep that kind of chatter in safe company, what with the occupation."

Tench's belly grumbled loudly as he watched a waitress go by with a large plate of steaming duck.

"Was that for the waitress, or the duck?" Alexander asked, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Both," Tench grumbled, hungrily.

"Let's sit and order then!" Mulligan encouraged the other two.

The three pulled up chairs and quickly had mugs brought to them by a waitress. Alexander winked at the pretty lass as she handed him his mug and she blushed deeply, looking away and then back, smiling and hugging her serving tray.

When she scampered off, Mulligan let out an exasperated sigh and put his head in his hands.

"You too?" Tench snorted, throwing Alexander a menacing look while Alexander sat back, smug.

"He does this to you also?" Mulligan picked up his head and asked.

"You should see him around camp..." Tench got out before he felt a foot kick him in the shin under the table and he doubled over, clutching his mug and gasping.

"Oh! What's the matter?" Mulligan jumped up.

"N-nothing." Tench wheezed, recomposing himself. He glanced up, irritated, and saw Alexander pointing at his swollen face in a self-satisfied manner.

"Do you ever want to strangle him?" Tench asked Mulligan through clenched teeth, while still looking at Alexander.

"All the time."

There was a loud uproar and the three men looked over to the table of the British soldiers, one of whom had just won a large pot.

Mulligan made a disgusted noise under his breath. "Look at them," he muttered. "Living fat and rich off of the colonist's backs, while they gamble our money away."

"Someone should teach them a lesson," Tench threatened.

"Not yet," Alexander put a hand in front of Tench. "Remember our position here."

One of the British soldiers looked around the tavern as he got up to relive himself. His gaze came to a rest on the table of disgruntled looking men and he sneered as they lowered their heads.

"How can you take this day-in and day-out?" Tench asked Mulligan.

"I sit like a snake, waiting in the grass," Mulligan said serenely. "I wait and I wait for my moment to strike and when the British come close enough, I sink my teeth into their legs." Mulligan made a snapping motion with his hand and closed his teeth together hard. "That is how I endure."

"Good man," Tench burped. "You should join us at the encampment."

"You have your place and I have mine. The work I do here is very important. Your army relies on my reports."

"Hear hear." Alexander raised his mug before Tench could argue.

The pretty waitress walked by again, glancing shyly from the corner of her eye. Alexander motioned her to come over with his finger and she blushed again, moving on. This time Tench gave Alexander a hard shove, pushing him into Mulligan. Mulligan pushed back, sending the liquid in Alex's mug sloshing forth.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Alexander protested. "I'm trying to help you two out! I'm willing to give her up to one of you!"

"Right."

"Sure."

Alexander huffed and rolled his eyes.

A yelp came from across the establishment and the British soldier who had won the jackpot had grabbed the waitress around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap. She looked uncomfortable and whimpered while he leered and squeezed her. Alexander's face went dark. He raised the mug to his lips and drained it. He wiped the foam from his lips, saying "It's time." The other two followed suit.

The three men got up and walked over to the table of British soldiers. Alexander tapped on the leering man's shoulder and when he looked up, Alexander punched him hard in the face. Mulligan extricated the girl from the brute's grasp and the three other British soldiers jumped up, with a look of surprise on their faces. Their surprise quickly turned to anger as they bunched up their fists, ready for a fight. The punched man, grabbed his nose, howling in pain as blood spurted out. Alexander kicked the leg of the man's chair and it broke under the force, sending the man sprawling to the floor.

Tench slid over to the left side of the table, his feet planted wide, his knees bent and fists raised to his face as Mulligan took the right side. Two men came at Tench and he deflected the first blow, grabbing the man, who was now unbalanced, and sending him crashing into the other. The British soldiers hit the wall and fell to the floor. Mulligan dodged a punch from the one soldier deftly, but then took a jab to the right rib with an "oof" sound. Alexander came up and cracked one of the men's mugs over the head of the man who just punched Mulligan. He wobbled and Mulligan cut across his face with a right hook, dropping the man.

The tavern watched for some moments in awe, before the screaming and scrambling started and the people began to flee.

"Let's get out of here while we can!" Tench announced. Mulligan nodded his head swiftly in agreement.

The pretty waitress stood glued to the spot, her eyes wide and scared.

"Go home, darling," Alexander said and then he pulled her in and kissed her. She melted into his arms until Alexander shook her, urging her to leave.

With no time for Alexander's companions to complain, the three men poured out of the tavern, with the recovered British soldiers trailing by foot.

"Quick!" Mulligan hissed. "Into this alley!" The other two followed him and they began to run down back streets as a bell tolled in the distance.

"They've alerted their battalion!" Tench said in panic.

"I know all these back roads; I can get us to safety!" Mulligan claimed.

"Hurry! If we're caught, we will be hanged!" Alexander implored as they turned one corner and then down another alleyway.

The footsteps behind the three fell away as they continued to run, sucking in the cold night air as it burned in their chests. They turned down an alley and Mulligan motioned them to stop. He fiddled with a key in a door and shoved Tench and Alexander in, following after them. In the dark, Alexander's eyes adjusted and he began to realize they were in the back of Mulligan's shop.

"Will we be safe here?" Alexander whispered.

"For now," Mulligan said. "It is not a good time to leave the city. I need you two to stay quiet."

Tench bent over next to them, gasping for air as Alexander clapped him on his back.

"I'll be fine," he chocked out.

"We need to set a watch," Mulligan said. "I'll take the front; Alexander the back; Tench, you watch from the upstairs."

The two men nodded at Mulligan.

"I'll let you know when it is safe again."

After their safe escape, Tench suddenly appreciated Mulligan and his knowledge of espionage.

The three spread out and manned their posts, hearts still beating fast and eyes alert, bodies tensed.

About a half an hour went by as they peered into the darkness, watching lit torches pass and listening to the sounds of armed and trained men patrolling in the city. Suddenly, a scream cut through the night and Mulligan witnessed a man, running down the street. The man was nearly past his shop when a shot rung out and the man fell, face splattering into the mud on the ground. He lay motionless and silent. Tench came tearing down the stairs and Alexander rushed from the back door to meet Mulligan.

"It's not safe here!" Tench sputtered with a hiss.

Mulligan looked scared, which in turn made Alexander and Tench nervous. Mulligan looked around the room, eyes wide, thinking.

"This is a man hunt!" Alexander seethed, peering through the curtains in the front window at the dead man, blood staining his white shirt.

Outside, they could hear the pounding of the British troops on a nearby door. A door cracked open and there was screaming.

"We're next!" Tench insisted, grabbing Mulligan's arm and shaking him. "Do something!"

Mulligan snapped and went into motion. He pulled up a nearby rug and revealed the faint outline of a hatch with a loop embedded into it. Mulligan pulled at the handle and the door creaked open upwards.

"In here!" Mulligan gestured. The other two looked down into the small dark hatch and then glanced at each other.

"Hurry! There's no time!" Mulligan exclaimed again.

Tench scrambled down first and Alexander squeezed himself next to Tench. The next thing they knew, the door was closing over their heads and they could hear the rug being thrown back over the floor above. Alexander blinked in the dark, trying to adjust to the lo light, but it was pitch black.

Suddenly, there was pounding at Mulligan's door and they heard his footsteps rush over the creaky wood floor and unlatch the bolt.

"G-good evening gentlemen," Mulligan said with a faux sleepy voice. "Afraid I fell asleep at my sewing table. How may I help you?"

A harsh voice replied, "We're searching for three rebel spies! We will need to inspect your home, at once!"

To Alexander, the voices sounded muffled through the hatch, but nevertheless, audible. Next, he heard a thud, as if someone had been shoved into a wall or some piece of furniture and then came the pounding of many boots on the floor as they filed into the house. Tearing and crashing noises happened next. Alexander knew it was the sound of the shop being torn apart. He could feel his body shaking with adrenaline, but he dared not move or speak a whisper. He managed to loop his arm through Tench's quickly and quietly, grasping it in solidarity and comfort. Dreading the moment the door was torn open above them.

"What are these here? Whose clothes are these?" The harsh voice came again from above.

"Oh! Those... those were left by previous clients from today. As you can see, I gave them quite an upgrade!"

"How do I know you weren't outfitting rebel spies?"

"Me? Never!" Alexander heard Mulligan gasp in outrage.

Footsteps went tearing up the stairs and the sound of banging and crashing could be heard from further away.

An excruciating pause in the conversation happened and Alexander's heart quickened at every minute of unspoken word.

The harsh voice called out from right above the hidden men and Alexander's fingers dug into Tench's flesh. He felt Tench grip him back. The voice growled, "We've got our eyes on you; you Irish can't be trusted."

Alexander heard the footsteps retreating above him as he let out a sigh of relief. The front door closed and he heard rustling in the the shop as it sounded like Mulligan was attempting to clean up the situation the British soldiers had left.

It felt like an eternity, there in the dark with Tench by his side. The space was small and cramped and Alexander felt his legs tingle with numbness.

"Are you alright?" Alexander whispered in the dark.

"Yes, you?" Tench whispered back. Alexander still had him by the arm and let out another sigh.

"I hope we make it out of here alive."

"Don't talk like that Alex. We're getting out of here. I'm going to make sure of that."

"Thank you, Tench."

Moments turned into hours and Alexander felt his head droop, the adrenaline falling away and being replaced by exhaustion. He couldn't fight it. It was overpowering him. His head dipped and came to rest lightly on Tench's shoulder. His body slouched completely and fell against his companion in their confinement.

Tench stayed still, body aching and his own head filled with cobwebs and fatigue. Alexander slept beside him and Tench vowed to stay awake, for both of their sakes.

Hours more had passed as Tench nodded in and out of sleep until the rug was pulled back from above. He clenched his body as the door creaked open. Alexander jolted awake and they both blinked as the ambient light of the night hit their eyes. Hercules Mulligan stood above.

"Can you stand? It's safer now." He said and reached down to grab Alexander's hand, lifting him stiffly from the hiding space. Alexander groaned and weakly tried to hold his own weight, but failed as his limbs tingled with lack of circulation. Mulligan pulled him out and laid him out on the floor. He then coaxed Tench out, having a little more difficultly with the bigger man, but succeeding.

"We must make haste," Mulligan implored. "Light is soon approaching and I need to get you two out while still under the cover of darkness."

"What about our horses?" Alexander asked.

"The stable is guarded, but I know how to get you others." Mulligan stated. "I will retrieve your horses at a later time and date, trust me."

Tench rubbed his limbs and Alexander wiggled his fingers and toes as the circulation returned. Five minutes more passed and Alexander said, "I think I'm ready; let's go."

They stood up and brushed their new clothes off. Mulligan handed them their packs, which he had hidden earlier in haste. The British appeared to have overlooked them while ransacking the house. Thankfully, these contained their food, water, and blankets, essential items for the trip home. Mulligan led them to the back door and peeked out into the alleyway. He stuck his head back in and told the two, "Follow me."

The three men walked like cats through the night, trying to keep quiet and trying to not attract any attention. Mulligan stopped abruptly at the corner of a wall and Alexander almost ran into his back, until Tench stopped him by grabbing him from behind. The British patrol up ahead passed and the men continued.

Eventually, they made their way to the river and to a place where four horses were tied.

"Whose horses are these?" Alexander asked.

"The courier service," Mulligan answered. "I shall repay them after you leave."

"Take some money then, Herc." Alex tried to retrieve some from his pack and Mulligan said, "No," shoving Alexander's hand away.

"Thank you, friend," Tench offered. "You truly are a brother of the rebellion."

"And to you," Mulligan said, grasping Tench by the shoulders.

Mulligan turned to Alexander and embraced him. Alexander looked sad at their departure. "Be safe, will you, brother?" Mulligan said with a hint of emotion as Alexander nodded. "When this is all over, you must come see me and we will rejoice at our victory."

"I will," Alexander promised.

Mulligan turned and untied two of the horses from the posts and led them around.

"You must ride them bareback," Mulligan stated after finding two bits and bridles, but no saddles. He looped the bit and rope through the horse's mouths while Alexander threw his heavy wool blanket over the horses back and Tench did the same. Tench came up behind him again, helping Alexander climb atop his steed. Tench did the same and the two looked back at their friend.

"Hurry!" Mulligan implored, looking around and then coming back to his friend's faces. "Farewell."

Tench and Alexander nodded a farewell and then rode off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting back into writing after so many days off is a little difficult. There's gonna be errors. I will try to correct them later tonight.
> 
> Also, help my friend out! She just published her third book, which is about a historian who (literally) digs up some Vampires dating back to WW1. What she doesn't realize is that they are a bit older than that! It's a paranormal thriller with romance and action! What more could you want? She's a fantastic writer too!
> 
> https://www.amazon.com/Raveners-LD-Towers/dp/0994910339/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid&sr


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after with Washington and Lafayette.

Hamilton rose from his slumber to the sound of soft moans and movement next to him in the bed. He cracked open his eye in a sleepy haze and saw Lafayette and Washington under the blankets next to him. Lafayette was straddling Washington and it was clear that they were trying not to wake Alexander. 

Hamilton rubbed his eyes and then continued watching his two friends. Lafayette bent down to kiss Washington passionately and then whispered, “My General” in Washington's ear. Washington wrapped his arms around Lafayette and pulled him in closer, returning the kiss. Lafayette closed his eyes, clearly enraptured by Washington's touch.

“My lovely, fierce, French soldier,” Washington murmured back to Lafayette. 

Hamilton smiled, still sleepy but filled with contentment at seeing the two men he loved so beautifully entwined. 

Lafayette bit his lip and moaned. 

“You've been such a good boy,” Washington purred, moving under Lafayette. “So loyal and ready to serve me.” Washington traced a finger along Lafayette's fine features. 

“Always,” Lafayette said haggardly while grinding himself on top of Washington.

Washington stuck two fingers into Lafayette's mouth and the receiver sucked at them eagerly. 

Hamilton followed the freckles on Lafayette's face and body between a half-closed eyelids. 

Washington's hand dropped from Lafayette's mouth and ran down the front of the man's chest, stopping at a nipple and tweaking it beneath experienced fingers. Lafayette licked his lips and then exhaled heavily. 

“Good,” Washington said silkily and then lowered his hands to Lafayette's sides, clamping them there. Washington pulled Lafayette down closer to him and kissed him full on the mouth as he moved quicker underneath Lafayette.

Hamilton felt himself stirring at the amorous display and wanted to reach out and touch the two figures next to him, but something kept him still. He didn't want to interrupt their throes of passion, and besides, he was enjoying watching them too much. 

Washington pressed Lafayette to him and moved him up and down quicker and quicker. Their soft moans became louder and Lafayette suddenly sat up and threw his head back with a muffled cry. The blanket fell away and Hamilton witnessed Lafayette in all his glory, cock in hand, with his thick seed spilling out and down his hand and then... everywhere. 

Washington's body contracted and Hamilton could practically see his toes curling under the blanket. Lafayette collapsed on top of Washington and his seed mixed with their sweat created a sticky layer between them.

Hamilton reached out and ran a single finger down Lafayette's cool back and buttocks. 

Lafayette shivered and eventually opened a heavy eyelid.

“Someone is awake,” Lafayette drawled.

Washington was resting peacefully now and he turned his head and smiled at Hamilton. Washington found Hamilton's hand and took it. Hamilton pulled the warm, comforting hand towards himself and embraced it, like a child would. Washington stared into Hamilton's deep, thoughtful eyes, remembering all the times he had been lost in their gaze and wishing, hoping that Hamilton would come to him and give himself over.

Lafayette lifted himself weakly and Washington turned back to look up at him, pulling Lafayette into an embrace. Lafayette sighed like a maiden, embraced by her prince as Washington's lips touched his. 

“Go, my fierce boy...” Washington kissed him again. “...and do great things.”

“I promise to you, I shall make you proud, my General,” Lafayette replied. 

Lafayette then moved on to Hamilton by sliding over and kissing him deeply.

“Hammy, meet me at the docks, oui?” Lafayette asked, brushing a strand of hair from Hamilton's eyes and then pecking him on the nose.

Hamilton nodded sadly.

“No time for tears, mon amour,” Lafayette said cheerily and got up from the bed to gather his clothes. 

When Lafayette departed Hamilton turned to Washington who then opened his arms and motioned for Hamilton to come closer. Hamilton slid into the offered embrace and rested his face against the rising and falling chest, feeling safe and content. Washington ran a hand through Hamilton's hair and kissed him on the forehead gently. 

The two rested comfortably in silence until Washington spoke, “You're going to miss him, aren't you?” Hamilton nodded.

“I'm going to miss him too.”

“Can I ask you something?” Hamilton spoke up.

“Anything,” Washington offered generously.

“That trip you made to Philadelphia, the one where you met Lafayette at a dinner and brought him back to camp...”

“Yes?” Washington said patiently.

“Did you...? Did you two...?” Hamilton trailed off from stating what he was thinking so openly.

“Hmm,” Washington mumbled, as if thinking.

“Well? Did you... take Lafayette to your bed?”

“Where did you hear such rumors?” Washington asked with mirth in his eyes.

“Lafayette has a big mouth,” Hamilton stated plainly.

“That he does,” Washington confirmed, his voice knowing.

“Uh...” Hamilton trailed off.

“My dear Alexander,” Washington turned and took Hamilton's face delicately in his large hand, “why so much concern for my love life?”

Hamilton remained speechless, mouth open and powerless under Washington's strong gaze. Washington took this invitation to kiss the waiting mouth. Washington's scent was overwhelming and Hamilton melted into him, accepting the demanding tongue on his greedily. 

Washington lifted his head and soothed, “Since you are so enthralled by my manly pursuits, I shall tell you, yes. I took Lafayette many times that night and many nights after.” Hamilton gasped inwardly at Washington's confession as Washington continued, “He was so willing to please me; So willing to do whatever I asked. I craved his youth, just as much as he craved my approval, guidance, and love.”

“Is that what this is now, between us?” Hamilton asked and Washington grinned in response, running his strong hand down Alexander's body. Washington gripped Alexander's hard cock in his hand and Hamilton gasped again, audibly this time.

“Lafayette was only 19 at the time. His skin was flawless, beautiful, and supple. His infatuation with me could not be more apparent, so I commanded him to my bed and he followed obediently.” Hamilton was taken aback as he heard Washington speaking in a way that was new to him.“

Why didn't you come to me, Alexander?” Washington asked, running his thumb along the tip of Hamilton's penis and feeling the slick juices just starting to form.

“I...” Hamilton couldn't get the words out and Washington just looked at him with a pleased expression at rendering Hamilton speechless.

“Is-is this why you promoted Lafayette to command so quickly?” Hamilton asked, his face a little crestfallen. 

“Lafayette has many talents. I knew he could lead the moment I saw his vigor, drive, and energy applied during our battle at Brandywine.”

“And I didn't?” Hamilton asked angrily, to which Washington responded with another stroke of his hand, forcing Hamilton to melt into trembling muteness.

“No, you, my boy, had so much more. I admit my own selfishness in wanting to keep you by my side and wanting to see your face every day that I awoke.”

Hamilton grumbled and Washington put his face in closer and kissed Hamilton's pouty lips.

“You should have come to my bed all those years ago,” Washington lamented, “but instead, you insisted on fornicating with half of the camp.” Hamilton scrunched up his face again, not used to the berating treatment. 

“Now, I'm afraid, it looks as though our brave little Lafayette is in love with you. What have you done to him?” Washington scolded lightly.

“Hmm,” Hamilton answered, face falling slightly. 

“Don't worry about the past anymore, my dearest Alexander,” Washington commanded softly, planting a light kiss on Hamilton. “Look at how far we've come.”

Washington released Hamilton and slid himself down underneath the linens. He took Hamilton in his mouth and Hamilton's eyes shot open.

“Uhn... oh! This isn't... mmh... necessary, Sir.” Washington answered by swirling his tongue around Hamilton's head and he bucked in response as a jolt of pleasure went through him.

“Oh... my God,” Hamilton managed to let out as his head hit the pillow again and his hands curled into Washington's hair.

Washington enjoyed the salty taste in his mouth as he wrapped his lips around the throbbing, hot shaft. Most of all, he enjoyed making Alexander squirm beneath him. He wanted him to feel something good after all of the pain he had been through. Washington wanted to show Alexander how much he meant to him.

Hamilton bucked underneath Washington's tongue and then finally rasped, “It's coming, Sir!”

Hamilton exploded with seed and Washington lapped it up, savoring the taste. He wanted to enjoy it and make every second of this magnificent moment last. 

Hamilton jerked once more and then deflated into the bed. Washington rose until he was face to face with Alexander and kissed him hard, forcing him to share in the taste. 

“Thank you, Sir,” Hamilton said, spent.

Washington caressed the smooth face tenderly, studying the features beneath his fingers and said, “Anything for you, son.”

Hamilton's eyes flew open, a little surprised.

“What is it?” Washington asked.

“Ugh...” Hamilton groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Damn it all, my father is coming and I wish I could forget.”

Washington sighed and looked thoughtful for a moment before he answered, “We'll take care of him together, alright?”

Hamilton dropped his hands and looked back at Washington, feeling appreciative and then nodding. 

“He hasn't earned the right to call you Son,” Washington said more seriously and then he leaned in closer, smirking and added, “Only I may have that pleasure.”

Hamilton felt his heart pounding in his chest at Washington's exclamation, but he didn't know why. Washington was probably the most father-like figure he ever had in his life. At times he loved and respected him fiercely and at times he hated and loathed the man, just like any real father and son relationship. There were times he he hated Washington just for calling him “son.” The pain of those words hit him somewhere deep and caused immeasurable loathing and doubt in himself that produced more invisible scars on top of the old ones. There were also times he craved Washington's attention and to hear those words out of his mouth made him proud. It made him feel like part of a family; like he belonged to Washington by ties greater than could be constructed by man. It made him feel loved and wanted by another human being.

Washington trailed a hand over Hamilton's face; the man was apparently lost in thought.

When Hamilton snapped out of it and looked back at Washington, the older man coaxed, encouragingly, “You could call me father.” Washington paused, taking in Hamilton's reaction. “If you wished.” Hamilton's face was unreadable. 

There was an unbearable moment of silence that hung in the air between them before Hamilton uttered, “Yes... father.”

Washington felt a stirring in his loins at those words and he gathered up Alexander in his arms.

“You make your Papa very proud,” Washington murmured in his ear, causing a chill to go through Hamilton. 

Hamilton gazed at Washington with wide, doe-like eyes before sinking back comfortably into his embrace and relishing the feeling of belonging.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye to Lafayette.

Alexander Hamilton departed his carriage at the green, verdant park and walked down the cobblestone streets toward the harbor where he was to meet Lafayette. Many people were out strolling on such a fine day, the ladies with their sun-bonnets and parasols, and the men in summer waistcoats with canes. Some men smoked cigars in a group as Alexander passed and the sweet fragrance hit him in such a way as to cause him to recall a fine evening with Washington. 

As he walked, the smell of the ocean coming from the harbor enveloped him and he was taken back to his first home, St. Croix, and running the streets with reckless abandon. Later, as he became more cooped up with his books and studies, he remembered looking out the window longingly at the emerald blue water and dreaming of the waves that would one day carry him away from his place and his circumstances. 

He came upon the docks where the fishmongers were peddling their goods and barrel-chested half-naked seamen carried cargo and goods to and from ships. He couldn't help but glance at one or two whose skin glistened with sweat underneath the sun. Alexander had never been built very large and a part of him felt very inadequate about his own physical stature. Seeing those men laboring away with thick curly hairs on their chest, faded blue tattoos, and bronzed skin, marked by a hard life at sea made him feel a peculiar longing as well as a deficiency. Alexander, of course, recalled the harder times in his life when those same seamen had touched his soft body with calloused hands. Thoughts like this made Alexander shove his hands in his pockets and hunch over as he walked by them, keeping his eyes on the cobblestones. 

Part of his mind wandered to a topic he often considered, the very essence of his nature. What made him the way he was? Did his encounters with the sailors shape a formative part in his life, or were his longings and desires something more innate? Were his thoughts, feelings, and actions immoral? He never cared for religion, or even really believed in a potential God figure, but something still nagged at him. Why couldn't his need for human connection be recognized and approved of by society as a whole? Why did he have to hide such a huge part of himself away? Alexander realized he was biting his fingernails in anxiety and stopped.

In the distance, he spotted a finely-dressed man among the commoners, pointing and gesturing with enthusiasm. Alexander smiled at the sight and then his heart fell. He didn't want to do this.

Every step he took felt long and excruciating as he quickened his pace towards his goal. Lafayette spotted him and waved his hand exuberantly as Alexander neared closer. 

Lafayette threw his arms around Alexander and then kissed him on each cheek. This always made Alexander blush, especially in public. Part of him was sure that Lafayette did it because he knew it would turn Alexander red. Lafayette was very generous with his affections and had little care for public scrutiny. His way of displaying affection seemed to be much more common in France than it was in America.

"Hammy! Mon cher," Lafayette gushed while kissing Alexander. "See zis boat here? It iz mine!" Lafayette looked proud. Hamilton gave him a weak smile. 

"You look so sad! But why? We 'av had a magnificent time! Non?" Lafayette threw his arms out wide and grinned. 

"Why are you leaving?" Alexander asked seriously. This question seemed to startle Lafayette.

"Is this because you don't think I love you?" Alexander seemed almost accusing and Lafayette's smile dropped off his face.

"Really, why are you doing this to me Lafayette? Why?" Alexander pleaded to Lafayette with eyes wide.

"Hammy! What is zis?" Lafayette seemed taken aback. "You knew I was leaving."

"But you don't have to! So why?" Alexander's voice rose and he seemed to care little for the scene he was starting to make.

Lafayette stood there, still unsure of how to proceed. He wasn't used to seeing this kind of overwhelming need from Hamilton. 

"What is going on with you?" Lafayette looked worried.

"You're leaving me! That is what's going on!" Hamilton shouted. "I told you how much I loved you last night, what more could you want from me? Is that not enough; Is this not enough?" Hamilton's voice, face, and emotions started to seem a little manic to Lafayette and he glanced around the dock, worriedly.

"Hammy, calmez-tu!" Lafayette lowered his voice and put a strong hand on Hamilton's shoulder.

Hamilton's hand shot out and grasped Lafayette's close to his chest. "I told you I love you, I really do! How can I convince you of that? You can't leave me; I need you!" Hamilton's eyes were wet with emotion.

Lafayette was still stricken by the scene that Hamilton was making. In all the time he had known him, Hamilton had never displayed this level of insecurity and vulnerability in public. Lafayette had always known Hamilton to be someone full of confidence that was often downright arrogant. He was bold, assertive, and took what he wanted. Never had Lafayette seen him flat out BEG and plead in such a manner. Hamilton's confidence was something that Lafayette had loved. Hamilton seemed untouchable to him at times. Someone to rely on when times were tough. Lafayette's unrequited love for Hamilton was something that Lafayette knew would never be fulfilled, as Hamilton himself was never fulfilled. Hamilton was always seeking and Lafayette knew that if Hamilton's amorous sights ever fell on him, his love would be fleeting. It was better to maintain a loving friendship than to risk everything to a man he knew couldn't love him in the way that Lafayette wanted.

"Ze General seems more than happy to take care of you in my absence, Hammy," Lafayette replied a little flatly. 

"Are you really going to make me beg?" Hamilton hissed while getting down on one knee.

Lafayette's face flushed at the sight of the prostrated man and he coaxed Alexander to stand back up rather hurriedly. "S'il te plait! Stop making a scene!" Hamilton didn't seem to hear him. 

"I was a fool, Laf and I made a huge mistake!" Lafayette looked at Hamilton suspiciously. "I never realized it until now, just how much you mean to me!" Hamilton continued wildly. "You're a true friend and I need that!" Hamilton grasped the lapels of Lafayette's coat. "These people in Congress are awful! They will tear me apart if given a chance. I need you as an ally!" Lafayette crossed his arms wearily. "Please! You're astute, you have finesse, you can engage with people in ways that I can't! People really admire you!"

Lafayette lowered his head with sadness. All he could really hear from Hamilton was selfish imploring. Lafayette knew this wasn't really about him, it was about Hamilton and what he wanted. The more Lafayette heard Hamilton talk, the more he heard his narcissism bleeding through. 

"You 'av got to stop this!" Lafayette looked angry.

Hamilton latched on to Lafayette with tears in his eyes. "I love you! How can you do this to me?"

"You're being unfair!" Lafayette snapped. "You know I 'av to go back to France. The longer I stay here, the longer my dreams go unfulfilled! You know what this means to me!" Lafayette implored with the last sentence. "You would ask me to throw it all away?"

Hamilton didn't seem to have a response to this, he just took Lafayette's face in his hands and whispered, "Please."

Lafayette looked around the docks uncomfortably and spotted some sailors watching them. This kind of proximity in public was even too much for him. He grabbed Hamilton's hands and lowered them from his face, holding them down firmly. 

"Do you really wish to guilt me?" Lafayette said sadly.

"No! I just..." Hamilton didn't seem to know how to answer this. "I'm going to miss you terribly. So terribly I shan't sleep. My life won't be the same without you."

Lafayette closed his eyes and dropped his head. He didn't know how to respond to Hamilton, who was always good with words when he wanted to be. How much of it was sincere?

"Can't it just be like old times?" Hamilton asked. "The two of us, facing the opposition like stalwart defenders? Our country is the prize we shall win for our efforts. With my handsome Frenchman by my side, we can't lose, just the two of us, like it used to be..."

"Ze three of us." Lafayette cut him off sharply as he looked up, his eyes cold and annoyed. Hamilton looked surprised.

"You're forgetting about our dear Laurens," Lafayette said his name in the French way, defending the man who made his unrequited love possible, for once.

"Y-yes, of course," Hamilton stammered, caught off-guard.

"How could you forget Laurens? You loved him so," Lafayette accused with a raised eyebrow.

"I haven't, obviously." Hamilton looked away, seeming to come up with excuses.

"Oh, you haven't? But you 'av professed your mistake to me and claim you love me ze same as him, but I know zis can never be. So which is it?" Lafayette stuck a finger in Hamilton's chest, wishing to draw his attention.

Hamilton looked up sullenly. "Don't make me chose."

"Ah-ha!" Lafayette looked sorely smug, pain hiding behind his eyes. He turned to face the water and the sun caught his fair freckled face and sea blue eyes in a way that made Hamilton's heart ache.

Hamilton took his hand from behind and squeezed it. "My prince of France, you came out of a fairy tale when I needed you the most and now you are sure to return to those pages, lost to me forever?" Hamilton came around to face Lafayette. "My love for you shall ever be unending, as the ocean is deep and wide and endless, disappearing into the horizon." Hamilton took Lafayette's hand and brought it up to his mouth and kissed it. There was pain on Lafayette's face.

"Please believe me when I say these words are true." Hamilton wiped a tear away from his face. "I have always loved you. Deeply. Passionately. The lack of your presence in my life is a great loss I endure each and every day." Hamilton pulled Lafayette's hand to his chest where it rested over Hamilton's heart. "I wish I could turn back time and right all the wrongs I have caused. I'm so sorry, Laf. Please forgive me."

Lafayette took in Hamilton's deep, pleading eyes and he couldn't take the sight anymore. He looked away.

"We can start anew, Laf. I promise," Hamilton soothed. "Just you and me, together, as it always should have been."

Lafayette couldn't speak anymore. He didn't want to hear these words from Hamilton. Why did he have to make everything so difficult? Why did he have to make everything so perfect? Couldn't he just leave him be? Couldn't he be the same as he had always been? Why now? Why do this now? Lafayette had never been able to say no to Hamilton.

"Monsieur Lafayette," a recognizable voice called out. Hamilton and Lafayette both looked up at the originator and Hamilton dropped Lafayette's hand, with a glower on his face. If looks could kill... 

Thomas Jefferson strode up to the two with that impeccable swagger of his. "I heard you were leaving today and that you would be down here at the docks," Jefferson announced.

"Monsieur Jefferson," Lafayette addressed him politely as he turned and bowed slightly. "I do thank you for showing me around your home state of Virginia. I 'av enjoyed my visit greatly."

Hamilton glared, not bothering to greet his greatest enemy. Jefferson only glanced at Hamilton nonchalantly, as if he wasn't even there. 

Jefferson strode over and embraced Lafayette in a warm hug, while peering at Hamilton with a devilish look over Lafayette's shoulder. Hamilton stood there, fists clenched tight and feeling small next to the two taller men. His distaste was palpable.

Jefferson let go of Lafayette and kept his hand on Lafayette's shoulder as he turned to the angry man, "Mr. Hamilton." The way he said Hamilton's name was long and drawn out. Like a cat playing with a mouse before finally killing it. He looked so serene and self-satisfied. He knew his presence made Hamilton shake with rage. It filled him up; he loved every second. A smirk formed on Jefferson's lips.

"Well, you two seem to be rather well-acquainted," Jefferson said snootily, having witnessed their deepest moment together.

"That we are," Hamilton replied dryly, crossing his arms.

"Oh, but Monsieur Lafayette is a good friend of mine too." Jefferson squeezed Lafayette close to him, clearly trying to get one-up on Hamilton. "Aren't we?" Jefferson prodded, turning to Lafayette.

"Oui," Lafayette replied, giving a small shrug to Hamilton. He could see the wheels turning in Hamilton's head and the look he was displaying was anything but cordial. No, he was practically seething.

"Not looking so well, Ham. Maybe you'd better take a rest. I can see Lafayette off." Jefferson winked. His jabs made Hamilton start to see stars. He was breathing heavily; he had to calm down before he really did pass out.

"Cat got your tongue?" Jefferson laughed out loud, sure he had Hamilton beat.

"I'll have you know," Hamilton began, "that Lafayette and I fought together in the war from beginning to end. The friendships formed in battle are quite... immeasurable. One could not truly understand the bond formed without having been there themselves. Oh! But you wouldn't know, would you? You have never experienced the battlefield, have you Mr. Jefferson?" Hamilton's eyes narrowed. 

Jefferson glared back, unappreciative of the sudden wit being displayed by Hamilton.

"Hmm," was his response and he turned to Lafayette and pulled him in, kissing him on each cheek, the French way. "Bon voyage, Monsieur," Jefferson patted Lafayette on the shoulders and turned to throw another glance back at Hamilton.

"Oh, do be careful, Mr. Hamilton. You wouldn't want these dock hands to start rumors about your... extracurricular activities, now would you?" Jefferson smiled, his face dripping with malice. The parting jab infuriated Hamilton and he clenched his hands even tighter.

"Hammy, look at me," Lafayette shook him back to reality. Hamilton gathered his composure and looked at Lafayette's face with a returning sadness.

"I'm not leaving yet, so let's spend some more time together," Lafayette encouraged his friend. He looked around the docks and spotted a nearby tavern and took Hamilton by the arm, leading him towards it.

When they got inside, Hamilton froze at the door, taking in the swath of sailors and wenches alike. Most looked up to see who their new finely-dressed companions were and there were a few shouts and hollers as everyone wanted to drink with a well-to-do man. A shapely wench slid up to Hamilton and he jumped suddenly, startled at the sight. 

"You look so lonely, Sir," She purred.

"I'm not," he stated back.

"Are you so sure of that?" The wench pressed herself to him and he stared back at her with wide eyes. She slipped a hand behind his back and then took his other hand, facing him towards her. She guided his hand up and ran it over her breast. He looked at her, entranced.

Lafayette came up behind her and matched her in tone, "May I borrow our friend here, lovely madame?"

She turned with a huge smile on her face. "Why not take us both?" She pressed.

"Oh, I would love to, but I promise I 'av not the coin!"

She feigned shock, "Oh, but surely that cannot be true!"

Lafayette kissed her cheek and took Hamilton by the arm, dragging him away. Hamilton looked back at her, mouth slightly agape. She gave the two of them a sultry pout. 

Lafayette led Hamilton up the stairs and produced a key that the tavern manager had given him. He fiddled with the lock on the door as a slightly drunk seaman came out of a room down the hall. He trudged down the hallway towards the two and when he was in earshot, muttered, "Well look at that, a couple o' ponces."

Hamilton could smell the man's reeking breath and was shocked by his putrid demeanor. Lafayette sprung up, pulling himself fully to his own height and stated, "I am not! I will have you know zat I am French!"

The sailor's eyes opened wide and he replied, "Oh, pardon me Sirs!" Then he scuffled back down the stairs.

Hamilton looked at Lafayette in disbelief. "Really?" He asked, shaking his head.

Lafayette shrugged and popped open the door finally. The room was sparse with one bed against the wall, a bucket in the corner, a small table with a candle, and a sad looking window to the outside. It was very befitting of a dockside tavern. Hamilton had no illusions about how the place was supposed to look.

Lafayette waited for Hamilton to enter the room before closing the door and locking it behind him.

"Hammy, let's talk about zis," Lafayette said seriously. 

Hamilton came over to him and pulled Lafayette into a deep kiss. Lafayette felt himself giving in. He sometimes hated the way that Hamilton was so persuasive in both speech and in body.

Lafayette pulled away and said, "I'm serious."

"What is there to talk about? You insist on leaving. How am I to stop you?" Hamilton said this bitterly.

Lafayette exhaled in frustration. Hamilton was being obtuse and difficult. Dealing with him was infuriating at times.

"If you love me, then you must let me follow my dreams," Lafayette pleaded. "Everything is happening right now in France! Every minute I'm not there, I'm missing it. I NEED to be there. Please understand." Lafayette raised a hand to Hamilton's face and cradled it. "I came for you when you called, didn't I? I helped you achieve your dreams. I must return now and claim mine."

Hamilton eyes filled with tears again. His mouth was pressed into a line and he looked angry and sad at the same time, welling full of emotion. Lafayette reached out to brush back the tears from Hamilton's face and then he softly kissed Hamilton's trembling lips, tasting the salty tears on them. 

"I love you," Lafayette whispered in Hamilton's ear, his own heart breaking. He held Hamilton tightly and they cradled one another in silence, neither daring to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going on vacation again. See you next week!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new beginning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a small description of underage rape/abuse.

1784 - New York City

Alexander Hamilton felt uneasy as he disembarked the carriage in front of his client's abode. He shuffled his legal papers in hand and straightened his coat and then ran a nervous hand through his hair. The last visit with his client had not gone well at all and he was not eager for a repeat. He had promised the man that he would represent him, but after he left from their last meeting, thoughts of giving up on the whole case became ever more pervasive.

Alexander straightened himself, butterflies in his stomach. He still couldn't believe something like this came back around to bite him in the ass. It seemed so long ago to him now, when he, a young, foolhardy, and rather libidinous Lieutenant Colonel in Washington's Continental Army, made advances on an even younger, more inexperienced, and puerile Basil O'Leary. Looking back on the incident now, Hamilton realized with some remorse that he had been somewhat forceful and loose with consent in his dealings with young Basil. He put his hand over his face for a moment as he remembered exactly what had transpired, and his face burned a little. The image of Basil's surprised face as he impaled the kid on his cock was something he couldn't forget. At the time, it made his lust grow exponentially, but now, he felt sick when he realized just how he had taken advantage of the boy. After all, Hamilton wasn't a stranger to the desires of other men and had often been at the wrong end of the power spectrum himself when dealing with them.

Alexander stood at the door and reminded himself that he couldn't back down. He had to go through with this, for the sake of the young man he had wronged. Life had taught him lessons, just like the love of Laurens had taught him to be a better, kinder person. He thought of others he had wronged with his youthful impetuousness and selfishness, like Lafayette and Washington. Lafayette, he had done especially wrong to. He knew this now after the death of Laurens and the existential chasm that suddenly invaded his being. In his loss, he looked to the one other person he knew had always been there for him and he felt pitiful and sick. How was he to ever reconcile his actions with Lafayette? Lafayette had always been too good for him, and in return, he treated him as a disposable object, always to be used when in need. Now, the need was suddenly more ever present, but he longed to give himself fully to another instead of taking and taking and taking. He didn't think Lafayette could ever forgive him, but he hoped--sometimes prayed--that was not always to be the case. For Lafayette had been the only other person he had ever confided in and opened up to fully, besides Laurens.

Washington, on the other hand, he respected and admired and Washington, in turn, often treated him as if he were Washington's own son. It often felt comforting and so fulfilling to be treated in such a manner and to be loved by another person, but he knew that his own life circumstances had caused him to resent a person who tried to take on that role. They had parted on amicable terms after the war, but Hamilton knew that his outbursts had caused a rift between them that needed to be repaired. He knew that his actions had pushed Washington away and caused him to to treat Alexander with more of a formal deference. Now, Alexander wished to convince Washington to return to New York and lead beside him. Would Washington take him up on such an offer after their rocky relationship during the war? His resentment and bitterness he sometimes felt at Washington had been replaced with a paternal love he knew Washington deserved on further introspection. He had often been, in the past, so careless and impetuous when it came to Washington and again, his own selfishness seemed to be the root of all his problems. He was good at driving people away, it seemed.

Alexander sighed as he teetered on the edge of the door with his riling thoughts, trying to muster the courage to go in. He had to try and repair some of the damage he caused. He needed to do this for Basil and he needed to do this for himself.

He opened the door and stepped into the foyer. He proceeded to remove his outer garments and then he walked towards the room he had met Basil in previously. He wondered if the handsome, dour boxer had heard him enter yet. This was the prescribed time of their meeting.

Hamilton entered the small dining room and set his papers out neatly on the table. He put on his reading glasses and was about to take a seat when Basil walked in, looking at him coldly.

"I see you had enough guts to meet me again and take on my case," Basil snorted, circling the table to get a better view of Alexander.

"I'm at your service, Sir," Alexander put a hand on his chest and inclined his head lightly towards Basil with a formal bow.

"Drop the rubbish," Basil said forcefully and Alexander looked up, with a tinge of hurt on his face. Basil glared at him and then walked to the opposite counter, where he took and apple and bit into it, studying the man opposite him.

Alexander looked weary suddenly as he cleared his throat and took a seat. This was going to be harder than he imagined, he sighed inwardly.

Alexander looked through the papers as the crunching sound echoed through the silent room, reminding him of the tense, angry figure in front of him.

"You murdered a man?" Hamilton said in wonderment as he scanned a paper and then muttered, "Jesus..." under his breath. Hamilton looked up at the toned, perfect physical specimen of Basil with wide eyes and Basil looked back at him with a blank expression.

"Not my intention," Basil replied, still munching. "I'm sure you've done the same."

"In wartime, yes," Hamilton defended himself.

"Why should it not be the same on the streets?" Basil asked angrily.

"Because we have laws and laws need to be upheld for the betterment of our society."

"Don't lecture me, you sanctimonious prick." Basil bit into the apple again and Hamilton leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, looking perturbed.

"This 'sanctimonious prick' is your lawyer, I will remind you, and if I do my job correctly, it will absolve you of these charges. You should hope not to make your lawyer cross with you, I'd imagine?" Hamilton was glaring at Basil now behind his spectacles.

Basil snorted and didn't answer for a moment as he leaned back on the counter. Finally he said, "You owe me, and you know it. I wouldn't try anything funny if I were you."

"Oh? Really?" Hamilton's mouth hardened. "And just what could you do?" Somewhere inside of him, Hamilton knew he shouldn't be goading a man who hated him thoroughly, especially one that was hardened inside and out as Basil appeared to be.

Basil dropped the apple and strode over to Hamilton with a scowl on his face and grabbed him by the arm. "What could I do?" Basil repeated, voice heightened. "What could I not do?" Basil shook Hamilton. "You're impossibly weak. I could do anything I wanted and you wouldn't be able to stop it." Basil shoved Hamilton's arm and he grabbed onto the table so as to not topple out of his seat.

Hamilton gave Basil a grimace in return. He was nothing if not hopelessly stubborn and competitive.

"You officers are all weak," Basil continued heatedly. "Sitting atop your fancy horses and giving orders while the real men did all the work! We slaved and toiled for you. We did all the fighting and we died for you! In the meantime, you believe yourselves worthy of stature and greatness! Who profited after the war? Not us!" Basil's tirade continued. "You!" Basil shoved a finger in Hamilton's face.

Hamilton shot up out of his chair and grabbed Basil menacingly by the shirt. "You little wretch! You know nothing of what it's like to lead other men! You know nothing of what my life was like! I had to fight for every inch of recognition and every ounce of what I had. I was born as poor as can be, poorer than you've ever been! I groveled just to make my way in life. I begged and toiled and scraped for every scrap I could get! All to feed my mother! All just to better myself! I damn well whored myself out to disgusting men like you just so I could survive another day! If you're unhappy with your situation, it's because you didn't try hard enough! So you should very well be satisfied that I am even bothering to give you a helping hand!" Hamilton gave Basil a hard shove back and he stumbled, looking a bit surprised.

Basil stood there, face frozen with an imperceptible look, watching Hamilton as he seethed. Finally Basil spoke, "You really haven't changed, have you?" But Basil's cold demeanor was broken and now he seemed uneasy and unsure of himself, even as he spoke those cutting words.

Hamilton straightened his clothes, anger still on his face. Basil, once strong and competent, seemed like a little boy again, cowering in the corner.

"Let us review the files in your case," Hamilton spoke with a cold professionalism and turned to the many papers spread out before him. Basil walked cautiously to the other side.

"Recount to me the events that transpired," Hamilton demanded, eyes still hard and angry.

Basil sighed. "I was at McTavish's Tavern and after a night's worth of drinking, eager to return home."

"What time?"

"Late, but not yet midnight."

Alexander nodded and said, "Continue."

"A man that I was not acquainted with approached me in front of the tavern. He was clearly drunk and proceeded to berate me about how he lost money while betting on my last boxing match. I tried to leave, but the man grasped me by my collar, all the while spitting in my face with his rancid breath and screaming that it was my fault he was so destitute." Basil shifted as he looked off into the air while recalling his memory. "I suggested that he was destitute because of his drinking habit instead and to not spend money on bets he could not afford to lose and this angered him greatly. He began to shake me furiously, so I grabbed him by the wrists and shoved him away from me." Basil took a deep breath. "He stumbled backwards a couple of feet and then his heel hooked into the dirt and I began to see him fall as if in slow motion. He sprawled in the street just as a carriage was passing by. I saw the horse's hoof hit the man's head and split it open as if it were a fruit. He never moved again."

Alexander had been holding his writing quill so as to make annotations. He had put the feather in his mouth and leaned back with a quizzical look on his face.

"This is a clear case of self-defense," Alexander commented, but I see here there are objections from the man's family. Basil turned his face to the floor.

"Were there any eye-witnesses?" Alexander asked.

"Yes, there were a couple of people outside the tavern," Basil mumbled.

"I will have to speak with them and obtain their accounts," Hamilton said formally. He shuffled the papers around and read them in silence while Basil looked uncomfortable.

"The obstacles at present, from what I can tell, are one: the fact that you are a prolific boxer. This will not go over well with the court for a self-defense case. They will see this as a mark against you since it is clear you are able to defend yourself, if not more. Two: It will be difficult to establish the motive for your actions that night. It can be seen either way that you pushed this man into the oncoming carriage to kill him, or that it was an accident. It will be up to me to convince the court of your innocence. Three: depending on eye-witness accounts, these can either be in your favor, or against. Some may have seen you arguing with the man, but did not hear the content of the conversation and then saw you push the man who was struck and killed. Do you see?"

Hamilton looked at Basil over his spectacles and the other man looked deflated. He turned his head and gazed out of the window, considering the options.

"I can't go to jail or be hanged for something like this," Basil stated. "Me mum will never be the same again. It may very well break her."

Hamilton sighed and leaned back. He wanted to hate the young man in front of him. Hamilton's anger and annoyance at the situation was draining from him and instead all he felt were pity and sadness.

"I have never lost a case and I don't intend on making this my first." Hamilton hoped that inspired at least some confidence.

Basil looked back and that momentary flicker of humanity and fragility had been replaced with a stony face, blank eyes, and a chill anger once again.

"Hmmph, so you only care about your reputation, is it?"

Hamilton felt the side of his mouth twitch as he remained silent.

"You're really something," Basil shook his head. "I was deluded to the thought for a moment that you actually became a lawyer to help those less fortunate, but I see I was wrong about any sort of altruism on your part. Not only that, but I was hopeful that you were actually trying to help me. Now I can see that you would let me hang if it furthered your reputation."

"I should be leaving," Hamilton said standing up from the table while gathering the papers there. He turned to walk away, but Basil rushed forward and grabbed him by the arm for a second time.

"Not so fast." Basil's voice was slow and menacing.

Hamilton looked down at the hand on his arm and then up at Basil, unimpressed.

"So, what is it this time?" Hamilton kept his gaze locked on Basil's eyes as the two men engaged in a stare-off, neither flinching or blinking.

Basil's hand tightened around Hamilton's arm and he could feel the digits digging in and causing soreness.

"You're coming with me," Basil commanded and pulled Hamilton away from the table. Hamilton dropped his papers as he was jolted away and they fluttered to the floor in a cluster. Basil shoved Hamilton from behind towards the direction of the stairs and then followed closely behind.

"What is this?" Hamilton pressed, but Basil didn't answer. Hamilton already knew the answer to his question as Basil continued to guide him up the stairs with tight closed hands around each of his arms. Basil shoved Hamilton through the door into the bedroom and then stood there, blocking the doorway. Hamilton turned around with a look of defiance on his face.

"That's the Hamilton I remember," Basil chuckled. "You still owe me, by the way." Basil took a step forward in Hamilton's direction and Hamilton turned fully to face him.

Basil got within an inch of Hamilton and then raised a hand to Hamilton's chest. Basil pushed firmly and Hamilton fell into a sitting position on the bed. Hamilton kept his eyes locked on Basil's every movement, watching for what the man would do next.

"Remove your breeches, now," Basil demanded, towering over Hamilton. "That is, unless your constitution is too feeble." Basil's tone felt mocking to Hamilton and he glowered. "I won't be gentle." He could tell Basil meant it.

"I like you less and less every time you open your mouth," Hamilton responded.

"Don't worry, neither of us will be speaking here very shortly," Basil said with a fake sweetness to his voice. Hamilton didn't know if this was a threat or promise on Basil's part, so he began to unbutton his pants.

"So, Hamilton the whore?" Basil prodded and Hamilton stiffened. "I never would have guessed." Basil touched Hamilton's face and he pulled away, looking angry.

"It appears you really had something to make up for," Basil laughed heartily and Hamilton stood swiftly, his fist launching forward and striking Basil right in the mouth. Basil staggered back, a look of surprise on his face, and he hit the wall behind him. Hamilton stood there, fist raised, breathing heavily and looking very angry.

Basil's tongue flicked out and ran over his swollen lip as he remained there, shocked by the other man's action. Then his eyes narrowed and he jumped forward, grabbing Hamilton.

"Get off of me!" Hamilton grunted and struggled.

Basil was furious as he wrestled with the struggling Hamilton. Hamilton put up a decent fight, but eventually Basil had Hamilton's arm twisted behind his back and Basil kicked the back of Hamilton's knee out to send him sprawling to the floor. Basil slammed Hamilton to the wooden planks and he pinned him with his body as Hamilton struggled and gasped for more air.

"You're right! I hope they hang you!" Hamilton yelled between clenched teeth and Basil dug in deeper, causing Hamilton to let out a yelp of pain.

Hamilton struggled more, his face red and hair completely disheveled and Basil dug in even harder, which made Alexander yell again and heave as he tried to suck in air.

"Yield already!" Basil shouted, tired himself.

"Never!" Hamilton gasped.

"Why are you so stubborn?" Basil exclaimed with bewilderment.

Hamilton groaned as he struggled more, but his attempts became weaker and weaker and finally, he gave up and slumped into the floor like a puddle.

Hamilton and Basil were both breathing heavily when Hamilton spat, "Why are you so cruel?"

Basil didn't answer, he just picked himself up from the floor and from on top of Hamilton and brushed himself off. Hamilton turned his head weakly to look up at his assailant. There was hurt and sadness on his face and a pain struck Basil in the gut. Basil's eyes widened when he realized it was empathy. Why did he feel bad for this man who had violated him so many years ago? He shouldn't feel this way, he couldn't, he wouldn't allow himself! Yet... hadn't he been the one who longed for Alexander's touch? The pain that burned inside of him came from the rejection he had felt at Hamilton's callous actions and indifferent attitude towards him. Basil likely would have continued a sexual tryst with the man, had things not come to a head. In those years since that rejection, he fostered a hate inside of him that welled up when he saw the man in person again. But now, here he was, pride wounded, hurt, and seemingly like a different person than when they had first met, Basil had to admit. He suddenly longed for that person he admired so long ago, the one he was infatuated with, the one he was in love with. He understood the pain of loneliness and he could see it now clearly for the first time when he looked into Hamilton's eyes.

Basil reached a hand out and took Alexander's and pulled him up. Hamilton didn't look him in the eye; he sat on the bed and brought a hand to his split lip, red with blood.

"Alright... I shouldn't have said that," Basil admitted.

Hamilton didn't respond and stayed silent and Basil waited, worried that he had pushed the man over his edge.

Hamilton let out a long drawn-out sigh and raised a hand to his forehead. "There are some things we all wish we could rectify," Hamilton mumbled quietly. Basil was unsure if Hamilton meant his previous actions towards him or the aforementioned whoring.

"I... didn't know you grew up poor," Basil ventured, waving a figurative olive branch.

Hamilton didn't answer or look up at Basil, but Basil continued speaking, "My family were also poor farmers. We owned a small tract of land in Pennsylvania. I haven't seen my mother, father, or brother since the end of the war. I feel guilty about my absence, but since I left, I don't know if I could ever go back. That life isn't for me anymore. I have to keep moving forward."

Hamilton looked up with understanding in his eyes for the first time.

"Ever since I left the life I once knew, I've been trying to prove myself. I need to make it in this new world. I became a man and realized that I didn't want to be a weakling, so I became strong instead. I'm a great boxer too, but now I might lose it all..." Basil seemed slightly upset.

"You won't; I'll make sure of that. It's the least I can do for you," Hamilton reassured.

Basil exhaled and looked at Hamilton, his eyes intent. "You don't owe me anything," Basil admitted, slumping.

"You're wrong about that," Hamilton said gently and reached down to finish unbuttoning his breeches. Basil looked up with a startled expression that grew to an appetence the longer and longer it took Hamilton to relieve himself of his garments. Basil barely noticed that he had been undoing his own clothes until they were in a pile on the floor.

Hamilton stood there in front of him, erect and ready, a sensual look on his face while also looking particularly eager.

Basil wasn't one to pass up such an opportunity, especially not now. He reached into the drawer beside the bed and produced a flask of oily looking liquid. He turned to face Hamilton with his entire body now on display. Hamilton looked up and down the freckled, muscular body, admiring its beauty, as Basil stopped in front of him and gently pushed him onto the bed. Hamilton reached out and traced a finger along Basil's skin, noting areas that had been scarred or blemished from fighting.

"You're... amazing," Hamilton commented, noting the man's body, which made Basil turn red in return.

Basil slathered the oil on himself and Hamilton gave a sly smile at seeing Basil oil up his stiff cock. This wasn't how Basil imagined this scenario would play out. He planned on making it as uncomfortable for Hamilton as possible, but with his own anger fading and Hamilton's apparent eagerness, it was going to be something different entirely.

Basil took Hamilton's legs and lifted them as Hamilton reclined back on the bed. He took more of the oil and ran a finger over and inside of Hamilton's puckered entrance and Hamilton shivered. When Basil felt Hamilton was ready, he took his cock and pressed the head to the tight hole. Basil could feel his eagerness at their impending copulation building and he looked Hamilton up and down, feeling even more turned on at seeing the other man's own cock practically bursting and dripping with early signs of seed.

Basil took Hamilton's legs again and spread them so he could obtain and unhindered view. Hamilton's belly was rising and falling sharply and one look at Hamilton's face told Basil that he was ready to receive Basil's cock deep inside of him. Basil drove his cock in slowly, savoring the look and feel of the fleshy pink ring as it enveloped his veined shaft and clung tightly around him like a well-fitted glove. Even better, was the look on Hamilton's face: head thrown back, eyes rolled upwards, hands gripping each side of the bedding and then came the soft, pleading moans that escaped from his lips.

Basil slid in easily and was soon buried all the way. His legs trembled suddenly and he steadied himself, worried he might fall as each of Hamilton's legs wrapped around him and hooked behind his buttocks. The feeling of warmth that enveloped his cock was delightful and it sent pulses of pleasure throughout his whole body. He stayed like that for a while, enjoying the feeling of Hamilton's body around him and then he pulled out and the fleshy ring clung to him, his cock still slick with oil and his own juices.

As Basil entered again, he tried to keep from letting out a loud moan, so he bit down on his hand. Hamilton didn't stifle his own cries of bliss and cried out loudly. Basil looked up at Hamilton's pretty, flushed face and then down at Hamilton's cock as it continued to leak seed onto his belly. Basil reached out and touched it, causing Hamilton to buck underneath him, which almost made Basil lose himself right then and there. Basil stuck a finger in his mouth to taste Hamilton's salty leakage.

Basil took Hamilton by the hips and angled him upwards. He then drove his cock in methodically as Hamilton cried more hoarsely.

"Holy God!" Hamilton yelled and stiffened as Basil picked up the pace, driving the tip of his penis upwards and against the delicate inner walls. Hamilton scrunched his face and shoved his whitened knuckle into his mouth as his body spasmed on Basil's hard, thick, rod. Hamilton's cock burst with a great finality and spurted forth his juices everywhere.

Basil, seeing Hamilton lose himself due to Basil's handiwork, practically exploded himself. He quickened the pace and slammed it home over and over. Any thought of hurting his partner left his mind as the only thing he could even conceive of was to finish the job.

Jesus Christ, he thought, he never wanted to admit before how much he wanted Hamilton again, up until now. The feel of his quivering asshole wrapped around his cock, the look of utter abandon on his face, the scent of ink mixed with sandalwood and lavender that wafted off of his body made Basil just about crazy. He couldn't take it anymore and he was almost positive that he was causing the man pain, but he didn't care.

"Oh, fuck!" Basil cried out as he pumped harder and Alexander moaned, continuing to bite his knuckles. Basil dug his fingernails into the malleable flesh on Hamilton's thighs and let out a great shout while following up with a mighty thrust that he was sure to have caused some damage. Basil's thrusts became shorter and less intense until he collapsed next to Hamilton on the bed, gasping for air and body beaded with sweat.

Basil's seed slowly dripped from inside Hamilton's body and out onto the bed. Hamilton took a hand and wiped his own juices from his chest.

Once Basil had regained his composure, he turned and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Hamilton answered back.

"Are you sure? That was... really rough on my part," Basil insisted.

"I've had worse, I promise, and no, that was nothing. Believe me."

Basil looked agog at Hamilton and then dropped his head back onto the bed.

"You haven't done this much, have you?" Hamilton asked.

"No, I haven't." Basil was reluctant to answer as his face flushed red. "You were my first lover and since then..."

"You don't have to answer that," Hamilton remarked.

"No, it's fine," Basil said fiddling with the bed. "There was one other, but that was only a couple of times."

"No women?"

"No women."

Hamilton appeared to think and then lifted himself to retrieve his clothes.

"Hey, wait," Basil laid a hand gently on Hamilton's arm and Hamilton looked over.

"Tell me about the prostitution thing," Basil implored.

Hamilton let out a sigh and then said, "It was in Nevis, where I was born. My father left us poor and destitute and we were unable to pay our debts. My brother and I would have starved--"

"You had a brother?" Basil cut him off, incredulously.

"Yes, but we had never been close. He eventually went to live with my father and I never saw him again."

"Go on," Basil urged.

Hamilton dropped his head, looking somewhat ashamed. "The first time it happened was on the docks. I was playing down there when a sailor approached me and waved some coins in my face. I was desperate. All I could think of was my mother. The man led me into a room and made me undress. Then he made me sit on him. It was very painful, but it was over soon. I bled for days afterwards. After that, I learned how to make it known that I was available to potential clients. I think this would have ruined me had it not been for Ajax."

"Ajax?" Basil inquired.

"My mother's slave. He was the first man who had touched me with a kind hand in my life. We were really just boys then."

"Fucking hell..." Basil's face was blanched and he looked stricken. "I never knew. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Hamilton turned and asked him with an expressionless look on his face.

"For... forcing you that first time we met again."

"You didn't force me," Hamilton said matter-of-factly. "I could have left and besides, you don't seem the type of person to do that, no matter how much you play at it."

"What are you saying?" Basil looked surprised.

"I'm saying I wanted to fuck you. It just so happens that it can be a nice change of pace when someone else wants to be the aggressor. I was happy to let you play that role, no matter how much you were grating on my nerves."

"Oh... hey!" Basil scrunched up his face and a laugh broke up Hamilton's serious demeanor.

"But I'm the one that should be apologizing to you, really." Hamilton suddenly looked serious again. "My actions were not becoming of an officer, nor of a man really."

Basil was uncertain how to reply.

"I won't make any excuses for myself. Plain and simple, I used you because you weren't likely to say no. You were also young and inexperienced, so I took advantage of that. I forced myself on you and I regret that."

"I... wanted you too, though," Basil said unsteadily.

"You don't need to make excuses for me..."

"I loved you."

Hamilton froze, eyes wide.

"Shit," Basil said, putting a hand over his face, realizing he had stuck the proverbial foot in his mouth.

The silence lingered between them before Hamilton finally spoke, "Well, all the more reason to not make excuses for me. Someone you love shouldn't treat you like that."

Basil looked up angrily again and grumbled, "Look, you lout! It may not have been perfect at the time, but I would have done anything for you. Was I scared? Yes, at times, but my body also ached for you. I replayed those moments with you over and over again in my mind. I wanted you to come to my tent again and again and again! It wasn't until your rejection of me that my resentment and anger towards you began to smolder. I suddenly felt like I really had been used by you."

"I've explained what happened there--"

"Yes, I know, Washington. Of course. But a part of me also knew you couldn't give me what I was looking for. You would have dropped me sooner or later and I wouldn't have been able to handle your escapades around camp. It's probably better that it ended when it did."

"But you hated me for years," Hamilton responded with a lopsided look of concern on his face.

"I know," Basil replied wearily.

Both men looked away and let the silence between them build. Hamilton suddenly felt tired.

"Please don't let them convict me," Basil pleaded, also tired.

Hamilton looked over and put a sympathetic hand on Basil's. "I won't," he said.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lafayette is gone and someone steps in to take his place.

Alexander Hamilton sat at his desk while prodding morosely at the stack of papers in front of him. Normally, this pile would have been nothing to him, but today he really couldn't muster up the energy to work on anything.

He sat slouched over his desk and stared at the stack of papers and then down at the wood grain. Lafayette had only been gone a day and their departure had not gone well. They managed to get in one last final furtive fucking, but Lafayette seemed distracted after that, only answering in short sentences and looking away at something other than Hamilton. Hamilton himself started to fall further into the deep throes of depression as Lafayette became more and more distant. He really didn't know what had happened between them. Their first night together had been wonderful, maybe even magical until Washington interrupted, and then after that, their trysts in the garden and finally the threesome in front of the fireplace.

Everything had changed when Lafayette brought up Laurens and Hamilton had tried to mend some of the damage he knew he had caused in the past between them. He knew Lafayette had been head over heels for him since they had first met. Hamilton took advantage of Lafayette's constant attention and affections placed in Hamilton's direction.

Laurens' untimely death taught Hamilton much about the frailty of life and the importance of love, friendship, trust, and loyalty. He wished Lafayette could have been there to comfort him when he learned of Laurens' death. Instead, he suffered in silence, longing to share his burden with someone, even his wife. But he knew she wouldn't understand. He was unable to show insecurity in front of her and in fact, did so only to a select few. His break down on the docks had been entirely out of character and Lafayette had been astonished by the display.

Lafayette left shortly after the war to return to Paris and Hamilton, having resigned his commission himself, only saw Lafayette once more before he left. He realized in that moment when Lafayette sailed away that there was a hole in him and it grew bigger and bigger the farther Lafayette went. He cursed himself silently in the night, longing for Laurens, but also realizing what he had thrown away with Lafayette.

Never in his life did he think that Lafayette would react so poorly to his confessions. Perhaps Lafayette felt used by him after all those years? The irony being that for the first time Hamilton felt true love and affection for his friend. When he came to this realization, it was all too late. Now, to be so thoroughly shunned by someone he loved and adored...

Hamilton slumped over even further, feeling tired and drained. _I should write to Lafayette_ , he thought. _Maybe we can patch things up by post?_

Hamilton sighed and considered taking a nap. That usually put him in the mood to get some work done when he wasn't feeling it.

A door creaked open and Hamilton didn't look up, thinking it probably was Washington there to give him some orders about some governmental issue.

The door closed softly and he heard footsteps approach his desk. The stride did not sound like Washington's at all and he lifted his head.

Thomas Jefferson had sat on the corner of his desk in a leisurely fashion. Hamilton's eyes widened; he could feel his heart suddenly beating faster in his chest.

Thomas picked up a sheath of paper and glanced over it with mild interest before setting it back down in the pile. Hamilton straightened himself and ran a nervous hand through his hair, wondering what Jefferson wanted with him.

"Not getting much work done, now are you?" Thomas turned to him and asked with little enthusiasm.

"I'm working on it," Hamilton replied.

"You've barely cracked open this stack, Ham," Jefferson said, pointing to the papers. "Feeling sad about our poor dear recently departed Frenchman?"

Hamilton's mouth twitched. He didn't like Jefferson referring to Lafayette as a friend, and not only that, Jefferson made it sound like Lafayette was dead, which he didn't find amusing in the least.

"I too loved Lafayette," Jefferson said leaning over into Hamilton's very well-guarded personal space. "We shared some good times, just the two of us."

What was Jefferson insinuating?

"I loved the man like a brother almost. He was very grateful for my assistance in showing him my home state of Virginia. In fact, so grateful that he offered himself up to me one fine southern evening."

"That's impossible." Hamilton bristled. He wouldn't believe something like that transpired for an instant. Especially not after the way Lafayette had spoken of Jefferson. Hamilton wouldn't even consider it, yet doubt plagued him.

"It's very possible because it happened," Jefferson stated. "If you don't believe me, you can ask Lafayette yourself. He is a very virtuous man, after all, and I know he would never lie to you."

The last sentence seemed mocking and Hamilton started to feel sick. This was another one of Jefferson's twisted mind games.

"I admit, it was an entertaining evening. Lafayette is very generous with his affections and I daresay, the French themselves are rather inventive."

Hamilton tried not to show Jefferson how angry he was. He kept deathly still in his chair behind his desk, but his hand clenched at the breeches above his knee under the desk and out of view.

"You know, one of the most charming things about Lafayette's body are all of those slight freckles. They're like a constellation of stars all over his body. I found them rather alluring to look at and so very soft to the touch." Jefferson paused and made sure to look into Hamilton's eyes before saying, "But I'm sure you already know all of this. Lafayette was happy to remark on your many virtues as well."

"Why are you here exactly?" Hamilton's voice sounded strained and forced to his own ear.

"I'm very pleased that we both were able to share in the gift of his body, aren't you?"

"You should leave." Hamilton felt his cheeks and ears starting to turn red.

"I think that makes us closer, don't you? We're connected in a way now, aren't we?"

"I should think not," Hamilton scoffed. His mind was reeling; he couldn't believe that Lafayette actually had the gall to sleep with such a man! No! He wasn't going to listen to Jefferson's lies. Lafayette would never do something like that.

Jefferson got up from the desk and began to circle around closer to Hamilton. "Lafayette would be so pleased to see us here like this, making nice, possibly friends even."

Hamilton looked astonished. Was the man serious?

Jefferson sat on the desk right next to Hamilton, who had turned to face him.

"Us? Friends?" Hamilton snorted.

"I know, it's a strange concept, isn't it?" Jefferson acceded. "I never really held out any hope for us. You're just too difficult to work with and you make my life such a pain." Jefferson put a hand to his chin, as if in thought, then he turned to look at Hamilton again. "But, we'll keep that little secret to ourselves, shan't we?"

Hamilton's face was pure disbelief. "Lafayette would never want me to work with you. You're creating fantasies in your head."

"Fantasies are the best kind of reality though. They make things so much more interesting. Besides, I'm convinced Lafayette would have us be acquainted better, what makes you so sure he wouldn't?"

"B-because," Hamilton stammered with anger, "you raped me you goddamn prick!" Hamilton shot up out of his chair. "You've used me on more than one occasion and you've continuously played mind games with me. There's no end to your ridiculous and demented behavior! You're enjoying this even now!"

Jefferson smiled at Hamilton in a way that he recognized as pure, unfiltered, lust. Lust for power, lust for control, lust to dominate... him! It was sadistic, it was sickening, and it was confusing. It made Hamilton's head woozy with blind rage and pure emotion. He never hated Jefferson more than he did now in this moment.

"Now you try to turn my best friend against me! You'll have everyone in the government convinced that I'm the problem and not you, while you're a goddamn snake in the grass! Don't try to make me part of your sick and perverted fantasies anymore because I am through with you! And wipe that smile off of your face, while you're at it!"

Jefferson didn't drop his gaze or let his smile go anywhere. He was transfixed on Hamilton and seemed to be relishing every word coming out of his mouth. He let Hamilton stand there and shake with fury for a moment before he languidly shifted and and oozed out of his mouth, "Ham, Ham, Ham, It's so hard to see you like this. I know the departure of Lafayette has been quite a burden for you, just as it has been for me as well."

Hamilton, looking frustrated, turned and covered his ears with his hands.

Jefferson took this as an opportunity to slide up behind Hamilton to where he knew the man could still hear him and smirked, "I seem to recall an agreement made by two gentlemen. In that agreement, you conceded that I could do whatever I wanted to you in exchange for your silly little bill, which passed, I might add. I made it quick and took what I wanted and you got what you wanted in return, so now you are having regrets about our deal? It's a little too late for that."

Hamilton didn't answer him, but Jefferson knew that the man had heard his every word.

"On other occasions, you've been more than happy to give yourself to me. That wasn't my doing, but yours."

Hamilton dropped his hands and turned to face Jefferson. "You humiliated me, you intentionally made sure to cause as much pain as possible and you know why? Because you thought you could then be rid of me. You thought I would be too ashamed to show my face around you again. Well, one thing you didn't count on was my tenacity. You banked on the thought that maybe that was the worst thing you could do to me. You guessed wrong."

Thomas smirked, appreciative of the fight that Hamilton was now putting up.

"You're a coward," Jefferson said. "Afraid and hindered by your basest desires. That's the difference between you and me. I take what I want. I knew what you wanted, so I made a move. You can't admit even now that you wanted me to take you like I did."

Hamilton looked away from Jefferson, folding his arms defensively in front of him.

Jefferson sprang into motion like a cat and took Hamilton by the front of his coat and pushed him into the corner against the wall, near a large armoire.

"Even now, you'll fight with me and reject me because you can't stand the thought of just giving in and admitting what you want, because admitting means that you lose. You lose your dignity or your pride and will have to admit to whatever stuffed up hang-ups you have about yourself."

Hamilton looked like he was either ready to fight or ready to try and break free and run. Jefferson put a hand on the wall next to Hamilton and kept the other one firmly affixed to his collar. He leaned in and pressed Hamilton against the wall, who tried to shrink and become as small as possible. Jefferson's manhood was apparent as it dug into Hamilton's leg.

"So what's it going to be?" Jefferson took the hand from the wall and trailed it along Hamilton's face with a caress.

Hamilton looked to be fighting with himself internally and Jefferson leaned in and ran his lips over Hamilton's neck. The breath caught in Hamilton's throat and prickles went throughout his skin, which Jefferson took note of. Jefferson lowered a hand and ran it over the bulge in Hamilton's pants. Beneath the fabric he felt the telltale signs of arousal as he stroked through Hamilton's breeches.

"The only one you're deceiving is yourself," Jefferson whispered.

Hamilton felt defeated. Jefferson had beaten him; Jefferson had won. He felt like he was choking back tears.

Jefferson pressed his mouth firmly and decidedly to Hamilton's trembling lips. He took a hand and ran it through Hamilton's hair, stopping to grab a fistful and tugging. Hamilton let out a gasp as his head was pulled back. Jefferson still had him pinned there, manhood hot and throbbing against him, and the tingling sensation of Jefferson's steamy breath on his ear, neck, and face.

Then as suddenly as it had started, Jefferson stepped away. Hamilton's eyes opened in surprise and he saw Jefferson standing there and looking at him with that same smug, ravenous, and self-aggrandizing look. It was the look of power and control. It was the look of triumph.

Jefferson smirked and then he turned and walked out of Hamilton's office.

Legs shaky, Hamilton sunk to the floor, insides churning and roiling as he gasped, hating himself for allowing Jefferson to have such an effect on him.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things in Congress get a little complicated.

Alexander Hamilton sat and stewed in his office. He couldn't believe the nerve of Jefferson! The man was insatiable, rude, and inconsiderate. Hamilton was convinced that Thomas Jefferson made it his personal mission to drive him out of office, and he was ready to do that in any way he could. Jefferson, of course, in his usual ostentatious manner, pressed boundaries--no, crossed boundaries and had little care for how his own outrageous behavior came across.

Hamilton crushed the paper he had been tying to work on in his fist and then noticed when it was too late and the paper was ruined.

"Shit," he cursed. Now he would have to start over.

If he never has to see Jefferson again, he would welcome that day gladly. Why did Washington appoint him Secretary of State? Why didn't Washington dismiss him, especially with all that had come to light?

Anger burned in the pit of Hamilton's stomach as he imagined the perceived slights against him made by Washington. His mind ran wild with accusations and thoughts of betrayal. First Washington, now Lafayette? Had he none to turn to?

He drew a parchment out and began to write hastily with the ink splotching the paper.

"Cher Lafayette,

I hope your voyage is as uneventful as it is kind to your fair constitution. I pray for your safe arrival in your beloved Paris once again. However, there is an important matter I wish to discuss with you. Recently, I was made aware--by one of whom I thought we both despised--of an unfortunate rumor on your behalf."

Hamilton looked at what he just wrote and crumpled the parchment in his hands. _I can't send something like this to Lafayette_ , he thought, putting his head in a hand wearily.

He pulled out another parchment.

"Did Jefferson coerce you into a night of passion as he once did me? Your answer shall forever remain in my confidence."

He crumpled up the paper again.

"Jefferson attempts to deceive and shock me by using stories of an imagined coitus between you two."

He crumpled this paper even harder than the last.

"Did you fuck him?"

Hamilton let out an enraged noise from his mouth and shoved the parchment from his desk. In the process, he also toppled the ink pot, which spilled into a black pool and welled up ominously on his desk.

How did things end up this way? Why had Jefferson and he started on such a bad foot? From day one, Jefferson's arrogance and his use of seniority made Hamilton contemptuous of the man. Jefferson had never treated him as an equal and whenever Hamilton had spoken on an important issue, all he could see was Jefferson there, smirking with arrogance.

Furthermore, why would Washington chose such a person? That hurt as much, if not more, than Jefferson's attitude towards him. He trusted Washington to lead and to make good decisions. His appointment of Jefferson was like a shock of betrayal. It made Hamilton question Washington's decision in choosing him as well. Did Washington appoint him to the position he did because they were friends and fought in the war together and not due to his qualifications?

Realizing he wasn't to get any work done today, he stood up and looked detached at the mess of ink on his desk. He left his office and walked down the hall, catching a glance at his features in a mirror as he passed. He had large dark circles under his eyes that marked his restless nights. He didn't know how long it had been since he had slept with Eliza in the same bed.

Hamilton descended the staircase where his eyes passed over James Madison at the doorway. Not noticing him at first, Hamilton's eyes snapped back when he realized who was standing there. Madison was smiling at him, which made him feel uneasy. It had been an extremely hard day and to see something as unsettling as Madison trying to be friendly with him made him question everything.

"Can I help you?" Hamilton asked suspiciously.

James Madison bowed to him and then coughed into a handkerchief he always carried with him. Madison's face was waxy and lined with crow's feet and sweat. He was known for his ill health by all in Congress.

Madison held a hand out to Hamilton and Hamilton grimaced, the look evident on his face. One thing he could not abide was dirtiness. He was fastidious about his appearance and meticulous about his clothes. Those ill of health often made him feel revolted.

Hamilton pulled his hand back, so as to not let it be close enough for Madison to grasp. Madison gave him a sigh and looked a bit dejected.

"Mr. Hamilton, I was told by Thomas Jefferson that you wanted to meet with me? He said you would make it well worth my time."

"Right..." Hamilton trailed off, suddenly remembering one of his "deals" with Jefferson. "Right..." He still looked and felt disgusted.

"Meet with me tomorrow, alright?" Hamilton said backing up to where he grabbed his hat from the stand. Madison inclined a head towards him and with that Hamilton was out the door.

The next day Hamilton was back at his office in the Congress building. He was feeling much refreshed after taking the day off and going home to spend time with Eliza. He wished he didn't keep thinking of Lafayette and their parting. He also wished he could stop thinking about Jefferson and his insinuations. Hamilton knew he would have to write a letter to Lafayette eventually and if he didn't get an explanation from the Frenchman, this would cause him no end of grief. He walked to Congress that morning and went over the letter he wanted to compose in his head. The chill morning air had no impact on him as he was lost in thoughts of how to word such a delicate missive.

Once in his office, he wanted to start working on the correspondences that had piled up on him. He saw that the ink had been cleaned from his desk and the stray crumpled letters had been added to the waste bin.

 _I wonder who had been in here?_ He thought in the back of his mind as he grabbed a letter off of the top of the stack.

Hamilton was lost in thought when a stray knock came at the door.

 _It must be Madison_ , he thought with annoyance at being interrupted and sat his quill down. Madison was standing there looking like he was holding something in as Hamilton opened the door. There was no handkerchief in sight, but Madison seemed sweatier than usual and looked rather unpleasant. Hamilton instinctively took a step back and Madison came forward, thinking it was an invitation.

"Please, take a seat," Hamilton tried to hold in the queasy disgust he was feeling.

"I'm here at your invitation," Madison stated sitting as Hamilton took the opposite chair behind the desk.

"Yes, let's get down to business."

Hamilton launched into the proposal he had concerning government revenue for infrastructure projects. He talked for thirty minutes while Madison sat there looking more and more bloated and green.

Finally Hamilton stopped, noting Madison's discomfort and took out his own pocket square and handed it to the sick man. James Madison looked relieved as he turned and coughed and hacked into it with extreme force. Hamilton felt himself getting sick when Madison turned and tried to hand the square back to Hamilton.

"No, you keep it," Hamilton said weakly.

Madison nodded and tucked the defiled handkerchief into his pocket and then admitted, "That's actually not bad. In fact, it's pretty good."

Hamilton could only muster a raised eyebrow while Madison sat there thinking.

"We used to work together so well, what happened?" Madison asked innocently.

"Yes, I too remember our work on the documents supporting the Constitution. I must thank you again for your contribution."

"Hmmm," Madison nodded appreciatively.

"But if you must know, Thomas Jefferson is what happened," Hamilton exclaimed and Madison dropped his smile.

"I daresay I wouldn't be here today without Jefferson," Madison scoffed.

Hamilton rolled his eyes and said plainly, "Jefferson is the reason for all of the animosity in the first place! If not for him, we wouldn't need to be sneaking around like a maiden and the stable boy. We had a perfectly acceptable working relationship before that pompous ass interfered."

Madison appeared to be thinking as he shifted in the chair uncomfortably.

"Will you think about my proposal? While you're at it, also think on your choice of confidants."

Madison nodded and grumbled something while getting up and leaving without another word. Hamilton sighed and put his head in his hands once again. _Was Madison really this dense?_ he wondered.

Hamilton got up, deciding he needed a walk. He closed the door and looked in the direction of Washington's office. Was he in? Washington appeared so busy most of the time. Should he interrupt any work the President may be doing? Hamilton remembered the anger he felt yesterday at Washington's ineffectiveness when it came to Jefferson and the anger returned, flooding into him.

He turned with some resolve and skulked off down the hallway in the other direction. He always walked faster when he was a little angry and he rounded the corner swiftly, bumping into none other than Thomas Jefferson.

Hamilton looked up, eyes suddenly wide. Thomas smiled back at him, putting his hands on Hamilton's shoulders.

"Oh, look who it is! Just the person I wanted to see."

"R-really?"

Hamilton hated how he lost all mental faculties and speech capacity anytime Jefferson was around. That was something he really needed to work on. Jefferson had shredded him recently in a debate in Congress, which he wasn't happy about at all. He vowed to crush Jefferson next time they were on opposite sides of an issue... which was always.

"Yes, really," Jefferson said in a low voice and nudged Hamilton in a direction.

Before Hamilton could clear his head and gain a sense of what was happening, Jefferson had pushed Hamilton into the small library they kept in Congress which was filled with law books and others on social, economic, and political issues. The library stood empty, a dim light creeping through the window, and Jefferson closed the door behind him, locking it.

"Do you need help finding a book?" Hamilton said sarcastically and crossed his arms.

"I need you," Jefferson replied, which made Hamilton squint his eyes at Jefferson in disbelief and suspicion.

"Don't tell Madison that," Hamilton shot back.

"Let the fool think what he wants."

"Some friend you are."

"I can't stop thinking about you," Jefferson admitted, changing the subject while he inched closer to Hamilton.

"I thought you hated me?"

"Yes, that's what makes this so much fun, don't you agree? Desiring that which you hate?"

Hamilton didn't answer him back.

Jefferson was on top of Hamilton suddenly and ran his finger from Hamilton's cheek and down his chest.

"You said that I did you wrong..." Jefferson brought up the sore issue and Hamilton's face hardened. Jefferson leaned in close and took Hamilton's face in his large hands and kissed his lips. He was afraid the other man wouldn't reciprocate, or maybe even fight back. That would have made things very difficult. But Hamilton fell into the kiss and met his lips with a tentative desire.

As Thomas pulled away, he bit Hamilton's lower lip and pulled at it lightly with his teeth. Still hovering there next to his face, Jefferson whispered, "At any time you could have denied me, but you didn't. That must mean something."

"You're thinking too much into it," Hamilton replied. "And I won't forgive you for what happened either."

"Ooh," Jefferson appeared hurt. He stepped forward and caused Hamilton to take a step back and bump into the bookshelf. "You're so complicated," Jefferson mocked.

"Then how about a show of goodwill?" Jefferson smiled, his canines appearing wolfish. Hamilton fiddled with his hands as they pressed to each of his sides.

Jefferson ran a hand over Hamilton's chest and slipped it underneath his arm and behind his back. The other hand made his way back there until he had Hamilton embraced in his arms. He pressed the smaller man close to him and kissed him harder this time.

There was that feeling, Hamilton thought vacantly as his mind swam with conflicting emotions. It was the feeling of being held, wanted, desired by a much larger man. It was the feeling of being engulfed, of being dominated, or being controlled. The last time he had felt this, it had been with Washington--shit Washington.

Hamilton returned the kiss as the hands held him firmly and passionately. Jefferson broke off and trailed kisses over his ear and down his neck.

_What if Washington finds out?_

Hamilton's mind started wandering.

Jefferson moved his hand downwards as he pressed Hamilton against a bookshelf. He unbutton Hamilton's breeches and then forced a hand in, running his thumb over the tip and extracting the salty beads of fluid.

_Washington can't find out._

A wave of guilt washed over him, but the hands on his body felt too good and he closed his eyes without realizing it and met each of Jefferson's touches eagerly.

Jefferson pressed the wet thumb to Hamilton's lips and wiped it across them. Hamilton could vaguely taste his own salty excretions until Jefferson pressed his own lips there and his tongue flicked out, mixing the taste between their two mouths.

Hamilton let out a noise as Jefferson dug his hips into Hamilton's hardness and then ran a hand underneath his ruffled shirt and up his back. He ran his hand back down and let a finger tease at the top of the cleavage of his buttocks.

_Washington doesn't need to find out._

Jefferson got to his knees quickly before Hamilton even realized what was happening and took Hamilton's buttocks from behind in each hand and squeezed them. He also pulled Hamilton forward into his mouth.

Hamilton grabbed the bookshelf on each side of him. When Jefferson had slammed him up against it, a couple of books had tumbled off. He hoped more didn't fall on him.

Jefferson sucked slowly, making sure to look up at Hamilton with lustful eyes. Hamilton wondered if Jefferson was trying to make him feel bad? This was probably another game of his, but at the moment, it felt too good for him to care.

Thick lips sucked him to perfection as Hamilton reached a hand down and ran it through Jefferson's hair. Hamilton breathed heavily and his head felt dizzy as he craved Jefferson and the sweet feeling of release. Hamilton curled a hand into the thick mop on Jefferson's head and pulled Jefferson's mouth deeper onto his shaft. This didn't seem to affect Jefferson in the least and he began sucking with more vigor.

"Oh God, don't stop," Hamilton exhaled.

Jefferson's hand strayed away from Hamilton's buttocks and he ran a finger over the fleshy mound of skin between his testicles and anus. This made Hamilton tense with a novel sensation and shudder.

Jefferson took a finger and raised it up and pressed it against Hamilton's mouth. He took it easily and sucked at it, tasting the salty skin and enjoying the digit as it swirled around and tugged at him.

Jefferson popped the finger out of Hamilton's mouth and simultaneously buried Hamilton's shaft deep in his throat. He took the wet finger and slipped it deep into Hamilton's hole. He gasped and his muscles tensed around the finger, which rubbed methodically in a forward motion. The reaction was almost instant as Hamilton shuddered and cried out, spilling shot after shot of hot seed into Jefferson's throat.

Jefferson lapped it up eagerly and then he rose to face Hamilton who was slumped and dazed against the bookshelf. He pressed his mouth to Hamilton's making sure to force his tongue, still soaked with seed, into Hamilton's mouth. Hamilton responded by kissing Jefferson long and hard.

"See how generous I can be?" Jefferson said to Hamilton, who wasn't in a state to respond.

Jefferson walked over to the door and unlocked it as Hamilton hastily began to do up his breeches. He looked back at Hamilton and gave a smirk while Hamilton looked at him with an imperceptible look.

"Wait," Hamilton ordered.

Jefferson raised an eyebrow in response.

"Tell me the truth about Lafayette." Hamilton looked serious.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"No, I'm asking you and you're going to tell me."

"I really don't like to kiss and tell."

"I find that hard to believe."

"You had better hope, for your sake, that I don't."

Hamilton looked annoyed and felt a growing disappointment in himself for falling into another one of Jefferson's games. He also hated the way Jefferson twisted words and gave noncommittal answers.

Jefferson gave another smug look before opening the door and leaving the library. At the end of the hallway, he ran into Washington, who always looked stern, upright, and dutiful. Jefferson gave Washington a self-satisfactory look and continued on his way while Washington looked back over his shoulder and tried to decipher Jefferson's cryptic signals.

Washington turned and continued walking down the hallway when he saw Alexander Hamilton scurry out of the library, looking around like a kid who just stole candy from the candy shop.

When Hamilton spotted Washington he froze and Washington eyed him back with suspicion.

"Have you seen Mr. Jefferson?" Washington's tone was icy and his eyes narrowed.

"Uh, no, can't say that I have," Hamilton replied sheepishly as he looked away, refusing to keep Washington's hard stare.

"Are you sure?" Washington pressed.

Hamilton crossed his arms defensively and muttered, "I haven't seen him today," while staring down at his shoes.

Washington pursed his lips and got closer to Hamilton, who shrunk back against the door. Washington leaned over to inspect Hamilton whose eyes grew wide.

"You forgot to button one of the buttons on your breeches," Washington pointed out, voice flat and menacing.

Hamilton's mouth dropped open and he quickly finished buttoning up.

Washington's eyes bored into Hamilton as he said, "In my office, NOW."


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington's punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna leave this here: https://goo.gl/lX1VFG

Alexander Hamilton scurried quickly down the hallway of Congress toward President Washington's office. His mind raced and his heart pounded with the possibilities of what was soon to come. Behind him, he could hear Washington's heavy footfalls as he followed quickly behind and pushed Hamilton on toward his fate.

Hamilton entered Washington's office and stopped in the middle of the rug that marked the center of the room. Washington closed the door and locked it and Hamilton turned, standing tall and trying to look unaffected by Washington's demeanor. Washington took the hat from his head and set it on the nearby rack and then looked up at Hamilton with dark eyes. Hamilton felt a shudder run through him. He knew that look; it was the look of a father about to scold his child.

Washington approached Hamilton and began, "You asked me to stop interfering in your affairs, so I respected your wishes and kept out of your personal business--against my better judgment."

Washington circled Hamilton as he stood there in the middle of the rug, nervousness shooting like lightning through his chest and out to his fingertips. How many times had they been in this situation... Washington scolding Hamilton like a child? He had never seen Washington behave this way toward anyone else under his command, so why did he insist upon holding Hamilton to impossibly high standards of conduct?

A thought struck Hamilton and he suddenly remembered what Washington had said to him the morning of Lafayette's departure: "Call me father and I shall call you son."

What was it that Washington wanted of him? At first, Hamilton didn't take Washington's request seriously, but the more he thought about it, the more he saw the protective way in which Washington presided over him. He thought of their past interactions leading all the way back to the revolution and recognized moments in which Washington became a fatherly figure to him. He would be remiss in saying that he also didn't feel that special bond with Washington.

Hamilton desperately tried to maintain a balance in himself with how he treated Washington. At times he craved the approval, the discipline, and acceptance of a father figure. At times, he shunned it completely, feeling angry at Washington for placing him in such a situation when memories of his own biological father were so painful to remember.

Underneath it all, he wanted that love and acceptance. He wanted to know what it felt like to be a son who was loved by his father and he was sure that Washington, devoid of his own heirs, desperately wanted to know what that felt like too.

How was he even to begin explaining the physicality of their relationship? He was certain that wasn't supposed to be included in the longings he felt. So why did they venture there? Why did it make so much sense for them to do so?

"Young man, are you even listening to me?!" Washington snapped and Hamilton stiffened to an attentive posture, realizing the dire nature of his present situation. "I will repeat myself: if you have truly committed yourself to me, then I disallow any further wanderings on your part! I shall not be made a fool of nor shall I be made a cuckold! If our understanding has come to an end, tell me now and let us be done with it!"

Hamilton's face brightened a shade of pinkish-red when he heard Washington's words and he stammered, "It hasn't, Sir." To think their relationship was even in jeopardy was too much to bear.

"Thomas Jefferson... of all people!" Washington's voice boomed loudly in the wood paneled room and Hamilton prayed that no one could hear their conversation.

Hamilton dropped his head in shame and covered his eyes with a hand.

"Out of all people, I expected YOU to be the last one to cozy up with him!" Washington stuck a finger in Hamilton's chest and he recoiled, the stab of the finger feeling like a bullet that burned deep within him.

"I expected loyalty from you; loyalty against our political opponents and those who would do us wrong and what do I get? You, literally in bed with the enemy," Washington continued in a rage.

"You're the one who appointed him!" Hamilton shot back. "This never would have happened if it wasn't for you! As soon as he's done ruining your presidency, he's likely to ruin my entire life next! You're old and on the doorstep of retirement, while I have my whole political career in front of me. What do you think he's going to do to me?" 

Washington's swiftly struck Hamilton with his hand before he even had a chance to register what happened. Hamilton put a hand to his cheek, feeling the stinging puffed flesh beneath his fingers. Washington had never struck him before.

"Your lascivious nature knows no bounds. I do not know why I ever expected you to change," Washington accused as he continued on as if nothing had happened. "The mere fact that you were so concupiscent that you couldn't keep yourself from fornicating with your rapist, I will never understand."

Hamilton felt the sting of hurt, then anger and betrayal at Washington's words. "He's a very hard man to say no to," Hamilton interjected. "As you are well aware."

"I expect you to have the courage and fortitude to be able to say no, but then again, it's not like you ever could," Washington glared at Hamilton.

Hamilton narrowed his eyes back in Washington's direction, his anger bubbling up to the surface. "Yes, well, it could be worse. I could be sleeping with the rest of Congress. I hear that James Madison would desperately like to be next in line."

"At this point, I have no idea who you've slept with." Washington crossed his arms, looking exasperated. "I shan't forget that you bedded half of my camp during the war either... enlisted included! You have a poor respect for rules and regulations, which extends to me."

"Is this jealousy talking, or something else?" Hamilton replied bitterly.

"I won't be lied to, Alexander. Not by you; not by anyone!" Washington failed to take the bait that Hamilton had set out for him and stepped forward into Hamilton's personal space.

"You're stubborn, self-centered, impossibly arrogant, belligerent, moody, quick tempered, and compulsive!"

As Washington rattled off Hamilton's poor character traits, he grimaced and put his hands over his ears to block out the sound of Washington's grating voice. Washington grabbed the hands away from Hamilton's ears as quick as he had put them there and held them down to continue his lecturing.

"I know what your problem is," Washington said ominously. "You have never known discipline, so you have never respected authority or the authority of others, only your own. Your father skipped out on you and you thought this gave you the right to act like an impetuous brat. You've been getting away with disobeying rules your whole life and you have only ever been rewarded for it. Well I'm here to tell you that this kind of behavior is going to stop now. You'll soon regret telling lies to me."

Hamilton's eyes went wide at Washington's words and tone of voice. Washington had berated him loudly and fully in the past and it had always been uncomfortable, but never was it like this.

Washington twisted Hamilton's wrist that he had been holding into an upward position and gripped it tighter. "Do you know how a father punishes his bratty, misbehaving son?" Washington asked with a hard edge to his voice. Hamilton shook his head no, in spite of himself. He didn't really want to know and wasn't eager to find out.

"I think you need to be shown," Washington declared and took Hamilton by his twisted arm and shoved him in the direction of Washington's ornate wooden desk. Hamilton tripped and stumbled, but Washington was there to hold him up painfully by his arms as he propelled him forward. Washington gave a final shove and slammed Hamilton face-forward onto his desk. Hamilton gasped as the wind was knocked out of him and struggled with the strong hands that pinned him from behind. Washington leaned over and grabbed something that Hamilton couldn't see and then he slammed the item on the desk next to Hamilton's head. Hamilton jumped at the noise as the item remained hidden behind his turned face and he slowly filled with dread.

"These are coming off," Washington ordered and with his meaty hand, he ripped Hamilton's breeches down. Hamilton gasped with shock at the sudden rush of air on his exposed buttocks. He was even more shocked at Washington's actions.

Hamilton could tell that Washington had grabbed the item next to him as he shifted over to one of Hamilton's sides. A sharp noise whistled through the air and leather made contact with skin. Hamilton jolted with surprise as he felt the delayed sting of the implement that Washington had used on him.

Washington slammed the item down next to Hamilton's head where he could finally get a good look at it and Hamilton jumped again as the leather nearly missed his face and the air from the whistling item hit his cheek with force. _Shit_... it was Washington's riding crop that he had used during the war years.

"How many lashes should I give you?" Washington mused out loud. "How many do you deserve for your misbehavior?" Hamilton was too stunned to answer him.

The crack of the leather crop rang out again as Washington forced it down on skin that was beginning to turn red. Hamilton's hands remained pinned to the small of his back as Washington held him down with one hand, even tighter than before. Hamilton's face was pressed to the top of Washington's desk and his hair lay strewn and disheveled in a heap all around his head. A small amount of saliva lolled from the side of him mouth.

"I take no pleasure in this," Washington announced, "but you need to be taught a lesson." Hamilton was still too stunned to disagree with him.

The crop hit Hamilton again and he yelped loudly, his legs shaky and weak against the strain of being forcefully prostrated.

Another whistle sang through the air as the leather struck Hamilton and he groaned. Quite suddenly, he realized something... he was turned on. _Shit! Fuck! Argh!_ He cursed to himself and squeezed his eyes closed. Was this really happening? He couldn't let Washington notice, he told himself as his face turned a deep hue of red in shame.

"Your must apologize for your actions and your behavior, Alexander," Washington commanded and struck again at his battered behind with the riding crop.

"Ah," Hamilton stuttered, "Ahhh..."

"What was that?" Washington asked. "I can't hear you clearly. Your punishment will continue until I hear a full apology. And I am expecting a full and sincere one." Washington struck again with the crop.

"I... Ah!" He cried out as the crop hit him. "I... ahhhh..." Hamilton's hardness pressed into the top of the wooden desk. It had shifted upward as it grew in size and also with each jerk that Hamilton gave as the leather crop struck his posterior. He was a sight: unceremoniously sprawled out on the table as his breeches sat bunched up around his ankles and the drool that dripped from his mouth grew into a larger puddle on the desk. If Washington spotted the red hue of his face, he didn't say anything.

"I am very... ah!" The crop struck again. "...sorry..." Hamilton bit his lip as his cock rubbed against the table.

Washington let loose a rather painful strike and Hamilton let a "Yes!" escape from his lips.

"What was that?" Washington looked down at him, confused.

"Um, ah, nothing, I promise, it's nothing," Hamilton stammered.

"In that case, start talking, or this shall continue," Washington answered gruffly and struck him again.

Hamilton let out a loud moan and Washington looked at him suspiciously, but kept striking each cheek as he saw fit.

"My patience for your lack of apology is growing thin," Washington insisted as Hamilton bit his lip to keep more moans from escaping. To Washington, Hamilton appeared to be deeply uncomfortable, rather than extremely lustful.

Hamilton let a moan slip as Washington struck faster and harder, irritation clearly bleeding through into Washington's blows. Hamilton's moans grew louder as Washington struck more impatiently, trying to prompt an apology from Hamilton's stubborn lips. Washington's brows knitted, sweat beading up on them as he expended more and more effort.

 _I won't back down now_ , Washington though with frustration at Hamilton's perceived stubbornness.

Washington came down with a resounding smack and Hamilton cried out, "Fuck me already!" much to Washington's surprise.

Washington let go of Hamilton's hands and stepped back in surprise, riding crop still held up in his right hand. Hamilton opened his eyes, face flushed and sparkling as he looked back at Washington. Hamilton's lips were parted and trembling, as he licked them in excitement. He then leaned forward into the desk and shifted himself into a more revealing position. Washington looked down, astonished, and saw evidence of Hamilton's arousal.

Washington dropped the crop and quickly began to undo his breeches. He rushed over to a small stand with a drawer and rummaged through it furiously. He grabbed something in hand and rapidly returned to Hamilton's side.

Hamilton couldn't see what was happening very well from his position, as it was impossible for him to twist too far, but he certainly felt it when Washington entered him forcefully, causing him to intake a sharp breath and then grab on to the edge of the desk for leverage.

Washington dug his fingers into the raw, red skin of Hamilton's buttocks and pumped vigorously, feeling especially libidinous in the moment and suddenly very needful for his own release.

Hamilton clamped his teeth together when Washington pressed into his tender flesh, but the feeling of being taken by Washington mixed in with the pain sent him wild with desire as his cock continued to rub between his stomach and the wood of the desk.

Washington let go of the reddened skin and clamped down hard on Hamilton's right wrist, pinning it to the desk. Washington took his left hand and grasped Hamilton by the neck, forcing him down into the wood even harder as his thrusts grew faster and went deeper. The image of this man sprawled out and subjugated before him was something that struck him so powerfully that it turned him into a ravenous beast.

Washington grunted and shoved Hamilton down hard, as he went as deep as possible. Hamilton felt Washington deposit gushes of his hot seed inside of him and he braced himself, face scrunched and tight, waiting for Washington's final release.

Washington gasped, his grip on Hamilton's wrist and neck loosening. Washington took his hands away and placed them on either side of the desk as he stood here, gaining his composure. Finally, he pulled out of Hamilton, who slumped and lowered himself to the floor as Washington did up his breeches.

Hamilton sat, back against the desk and closed his eyes, his hair matted and face sweaty. Washington knelt gently in front of Hamilton and rested on his knees. Hamilton opened a tired eye to look at Washington before reaching out to grab Washington around the waist. He pressed his face into Washington's chest and felt the rise and fall of the powerful breast.

"Please, forgive me, Sir," Hamilton pleaded, eyes closed, inhaling the scent from Washington's clothes.

Washington wrapped his arms around Hamilton and placed a kiss on top of his head as he held him close.

"I forgive you, son," Washington whispered, cradling him.

"Thank you... father," Hamilton said tentatively, remembering that Washington asked to be called that by him. It felt... good, natural even as he said the words and heard them in his ears, spoken by his own tongue. He hadn't said that word before recent events in such a long time.

Washington smiled and held him tighter, forgetting, for a moment, that Hamilton's own father traveled to them across the waves and was ever so close.


End file.
